Blood Trials
The Twins

Underneath the boundless fear, through the cold sweats, beyond the bitter taste of bile, outside the veil of infinite darkness, passed the murmuring voices was that smell. Like an unwashed dog that was thrown with water. It was thick and overpowering. A trembling hand grasped his and a soft whimper escaped them both. The dark cloth bags were removed from their heads, to reveal a grand laboratory packed with scientists in stark white lab coats. One, a woman offered each boy her hand. “It’s alright,” she whispered. “Trust me.” They each slid a trembling hand into hers. “I’m Dr Margrethe Jakobson.”

“We want to go home,” Logan stated. “Please.”

“I understand,” Margrethe replied. “And we will take you home. We just need to give you some injections and do some tests and you can go back to aunty Eloise.”

Morgan shook his head then tore his hand free from her. “You’re lying!”

Margrethe gasped as security guards in black heavily reinforced wear came at them. She raised her hand mutely at them while Morgan took Logan’s hand and the two took off sprinting. The doctor sighed then looked down ruefully. “Cue, Tsakani,” she ordered while watching the twins’ attempt to flee.

At her words, a buzzer paired with red flashing lights filled the entire lab while a roll up garage door started coiling. The twins darted that way only to be blocked by a towering spotted hyena-like creature. The anthropomorphic canine had a dirty golden-brown coat with small black spots over his arms and legs and back. The hyenian let out a signature hyena chuckle before folding his arms over his chest. His ears - which were curved, in place of pointy like other canines - flattened angrily at the scene before him. Tsakani flicked his tail that towered over the two boys. The tail that stuck out of his muddied and tattered jeans.

Morgan and Logan fearfully crept away from the majestic beast while guards circled behind them. Tsakani inhaled deeply before he regressed to reveal his human form. Dark glistening skin, a toned torso with a single scar across his chest. The jeans he wore contracted with his size but were still baggy around his hips. He raised his hands peacefully at the twins. “It’s okay, boys.” Morgan was breathing erratically while Logan cowered behind him. “My name is TK,” he stated with a distinctive South African accent. “You’re going to be okay because I’m going to protect you.” The hyenian looked up at the guards as if seeing them for the first time. “Back off,” he ordered.

Only Logan dared look back to see the men in black backing away from them. “You’re a monster,” Morgan stated, failing at hiding his fear.

Tsakani laid a hand on Morgan’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he replied coolly. “But I’m the monster that’s watching your back.” After that, was black. Tsakani, Dr Margrethe, Morgan and Logan faded away. They didn’t vanish; it was as if they were just out of reach.

Their presence was sensible but they were unseen. It was just a deadly silent void, where nobody could be reached. It slowly faded away, replaced by a warm breeze that grew more pronounced until Ridley’s eyes flickered open to the greyish-blue light of predawn and the summer breeze that combed through the open window. Above her was the white ceiling of the familiar bedroom. Beside her was the familiar warmth from the familiar face of Ankh. The wolfen slept in her human form, the back of her head facing Ridley.

The Source yawned as she peeled herself off her bed then made for the desk adjacent the walk-in closet Dominique recently restocked. On the vintage rococo desk, Ridley opened the sketchpad she recently invested in. She absentmindedly flipped through her previous sketches, ignoring the faces on them. Haphazardly she scrummaged her pencil case for a pencil and started sketching away sleepily.

On the bed, Ankh moaned then sat up in annoyance. “The sound of your thoughts is deafening!”

“Did you see it too?”

“See what? The wet dream you had of Dane? Unfortunately.”

Ridley shook her head dismissively without looking away from her sketching. “What can you tell me about anthropomorphic hyenas,” she asked coldly while rubbing the side of her hand against her pencil artwork. “The ones like you.”

“Hyenians? Not much,” Ankh stated through a yawn then rolled over. “They’re our central and southern African cousins so... that’s a little out of my barrier of knowledge.”

“Are they solitary animals or do they imprint and protect,” Ridley pressed.

“I just said that they’re out of my area of expertise.”

“Would Ahmed know? Or Sayeed?”

“What’s this about?”

“I asked first.”

Ankh exhaled heavily then sat up. In the dim room, she saw Ridley sitting and heard the pen sketching away. She slid out of bed, turning on the bedside lamp. “Ridley,” she called. The grand bedroom was quiet and the wolfen sighed. Her shoulder length brown hair was a mess, like the Dunon Academy hoodie she wore - covered in her grey fur - as she waddled towards the desk. “Are you even awake, or is this one of the dead men in your head?”

We cannot puppeteer another vessel, mut Ninsun hissed. Ankh rolled her eyes then set her hands on Ridley’s shoulders. With the stunt she pulled with the Consortium, she best be grateful that we-

“Give it a rest, grandpa,” Ankh jeered. “Dude, you need to sleep. You haven’t slept in days. Even for a hunter that’s...” she glanced passed the scattered black hair. “Ridley...?” the Source gave a shaky exhale. “Who are they?”

“I don’t know,” Ridley confessed with her sketching continuing. “I just saw them. Vividly. They were terrified and... I think there was a hyena with them.”

“Did you see Viggo, or... others from the Consortium?”

Ridley shook her head then shut the sketchbook. Ms Axel, you must be careful, Earnest warned. When you sleep, you’re most at risk of hurting the lesser bloods. Ankh scoffed, shaking her head. You could kill the entire species, without trying if you have a dream strong enough.

That is why the Source does not sleep. Ever!

“Now you tell us,” Ankh jeered. “Don’t you think that should’ve been shared... I don’t know... sooner!”

You will muzzle your dog or-

“All of you be quiet,” Ridley whispered. She cupped her forehead then leaned into the desk.

“Ridley?”

You chose a weak one, Earnest.

Our lives are nulled and still we feel these physical...

“Shut up!” Ridley turned away from Ankh then bit her lip. “None of you, and I mean none of you, say a word!” Ridley straightened up then turned to leave. Ankh watched her slid out of the room’s double doors.

The wolfen bit her lip and shook her head. “Congratulations, Draculas.”

Ridley combed her hair out of her face then slid into Tomás’ room. The master of the house was snorring softly under the deep crimson covers. Ridley wriggled underneath and Tomás moaned before shifting closer to her. In his dead sleep, his arms wrapped around her. Ridley nestled into his chest and just laid there. The ocean in the background, Tomás’ snorring in her ear. Peaceful.

She watched him sleep, feeling the past Sources’ presence but, for the time being, they were all quiet. Ridley closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against her brother’s chest. His arms were scrawny; a contrast to her more robust physique. To think, there was once a time she was self-conscious about her arms because she had swimmer’s shoulders. Now, almost built like an MMA fighter, Ridley didn’t care.

The morning sun was seeping into the grand room, filling Chateau du Luq with warmth and life. Beyond the double doors, the staff were starting with their daily routine. Ridley heard Genvieve’s trolley making for her room to vacuum the carpets and drapes, and dust off the windows and mirrors, and replace all the wilted flowers in the vases, and possibly make the bed, even though Ridley repeatedly asks her not to.

The Source watched Tomás stir from his sleep, never looking away from his steadily breathing form. A pair of dark blue eyes opened to meet a face much like his. Ridley gave a small smile to her brother and Tomás began to comb through her chaotic dark hair. He gathered her in his arms and pulled her to his chest, smothering her crown in kisses. She hated affection yet Tomás was the only one who could get away with it.

A servant, Ludo, came in without a knock. Ludo was humming to himself as he passed the huge bed to open the balcony’s curtains. The view of the beach beyond always captured Ridley’s breath. The glare of the sun on the water, the blur between water and sky and the tranquil noise. Ludo unlatched the door and let in the salty morning breeze. Tomás rolled onto his back then looked out the balcony doors.

“It’s a beautiful day, sister. Perhaps a day at the beach?”

“That sounds nice,” Ridley answered. "And I don't have to work today."

“You heard the lady, Ludo. Prepare a basket and inform our aunt.” Tomás sat up and breathed in the seaside air. “We leave after brunch.”

Tomás had a woman on each arm; Ridley on one side and Dominique on the other while strolling the length of the Promenade des Anglais. The wind had picked up but it was an otherwise wonderful spring day. Dominique, a curvy woman, proudly adored a coral tankini that showed her off. She managed to singlehandedly stuff Ridley into a strapless bikini that had tassels over the top! The only reason Ridley wore it was because it was black. Nobody could see it though; the Source had hidden it under the sarong.

Sebastian and Ankh - in her grey fur form - were at their site and sharing a melting-too-quickly cup of gelato. It was nice. Ridley and Tomás were quick to start splashing each other in the waves. Ankh yapped before running from the comfort of the towel and into the welcoming water. She pranced, making Ridley scream. The Source turned to the wagging wolf and scowled against her uncontrolled grin.

“You mangy beast!”

Ankh sprinted the length of the beach with Ridley running after her. Ankh was making Ridley work for revenge, racing at full speed while the Source’s top speed was a meek 15km/h. In her head, Ridley heard Ankh laughing amidst her get away. In was rage-inducing and Ridley forced herself faster. Other beach-goers jumped back to clear a path for the feral wolf on their turf and the hunter - whose gradus were fully exposed - chased after her. Ridley growled, only for her vision to blur. The early summer faded, replaced by a cold, sterile white hall.

Logan and Morgan were strapped to gurneys - disorientated from the sedatives. They were fighting their restraints, Morgan especially. They weren’t any older than ten; fearing for their lives and in pain. Ridley, she could tell, was spectating through Morgan. His jaw was burning! There was a rawness in his throat from the boundless screaming. Whatever was happening, it was excruciating. Tsakani, in a shirt and more fitted jeans, was holding his hand. He held each of their hands.

Logan was jerking erratically with his EKG beeping accordingly. He wasn’t screaming. His mouth was held open by medical equipment while doctors were rummaging down his throat. “You’re hurting them,” Tsakani roared. “Stop!”

“Commencing second configuration,” Margrethe declared.

Tsakani broke his hold from each of them and stood straight. “I said, ‘stop’!”

Margrethe - with her tablet in hand - modelled towards him with her stilettos echoing across the floor. Her shoes and demure exterior silenced the chaos around them. “You have no authority here.” Tsakani took Logan’s hand when the boy finally screamed from drills whirring in his throat. “You are a glorified dog trainer. You tell them to sit, and we tell you to sit. Now, sit!” A guard tased him. A doctor jabbed him with a sedative. “Good boy.”

A growl came before the hyenian looked up to the doctor and her unchanged demeanor. Tsakani’s eyes flickered before he fell to the floor. Morgan strained against his scream, forcing it down. Margrethe tilted her head at him. On the next gurney, Logan was fighting against the malice in his mouth. Morgan gritted his teeth, denting the contraption that kept his mouth open. Margrethe nodded her approval.

“You’re strong,” she pointed out. He pulled on his restraints with tears blurring his vision. “We need strong ones.” Morgan shook his head at her. “Be a good boy. Or you’ll end up like him.”

They looked to Tsakani being dragged out of the room. Logan also saw the guards with the hyenian. The drills in his mouth came out and the two doctors about him started cleaning up. Logan looked to Morgan. Morgan’s eyes sized her up, catching a flash of numbers 43 44 24 and 07 24 35. Margrethe smirked at him then looked across at Logan.

“Commencing third configuration,” she declared.

The wolf panted and slowed down. When she glanced over her shoulder, Ridley tackled her to the sand as a wave splurged over them. “What the holy Hell was that,” Ankh roared.

Ridley sat up, completely drenched in sea water. She was rubbing her jaw, feeling the agony Morgan still felt. “It was them,” she answered. “The hyenian. The twins. That place.”

You’ve never had visions of them; only dreams. What does this mean?

“Dreams? You’ve been dreaming about them,” the wolf asked. Her tail dropped into the ocean. “How long have you been dreaming about them?”

“These ones are new,” Ridley confessed. She stood up. She untied her sarong and revealed the black bikini underneath. “Ohmygod. I never realised...”

All these you see are of twins. The ones in your dreams match the ones you sketch, Ninsun added.

“He’s using twins,” Ridley asked more than stated, turning to Ankh. “He’s using children!”

“He’s building an army.” The wolf shook the water out her fur then looked up to the Source. “Those numbers?”

“I have no idea.”

“You have to tell the family.” Ridley looked back at them. The were barely within her sights. Tomás, she could see, was still in the waves and indulging himself. The Source shook her head. “Remember what happened the last time you kept a secret from them.”

Her shoulders slumped with her sleek black hair against her tightly. You could always not tell them, Onuris suggested. Leave this mess to hunters and the lesser bloods, as the gods intended it to be. Be happy, content and free with your family.

It would be so easy to turn a blind eye. To stay, here, in paradise, Ninsun chirped. Hm? Doesn’t that sound-

“Ridley Dominique Axel,” Ankh roared in the huntress’ head. The wolf, out loud, growled at her companion. The Source sighed then sat in the tender waves with Ankh settling next to her. “What was line Richard said when he made you decapitate your pet mouse? When it ate his shoe? ‘A real hunter must make the difficult choices that safeguard the few and’ or... you know what I mean.”

“‘A real hunter must make the difficult choices that safeguard the many yet distress the few’.” Ridley shut her eyes and Ankh licked her cheek. “Viggo has shattered this family enough. I can’t drag them back into this.”

“You don’t think they want revenge? Revenge is as powerful a motivator as fear.”

“You know that’s wrong. Maybe we should leave this to The Hunt. Or to goldbloods who want to end this.”

“Ridley,” Ankh sighed. “He’s restoring my kind. Under different circumstances, I would be over the moon! Begging Viggo to help, but this isn’t right. I don’t want them to hurt the du Luqs either but they’re willing to help. We have to believe that means they know what they’re risking.”

She sobbed into her arms. “Fine,” she sighed. She sniffled, wiping her murky grey tears. “But not here. I want today to be normal, at least.” A scratchy tongue licked her cheek and ear tenderly. Ankh nestled her snout into the tear-soaked face.

You’ve doomed them all.

“Shut up, Dracula,” Ankh roared.

Ridley collected herself enough to trudge back to their patch in the sand. It was nice to see them so happy. Ankh went to lay on Sebastian’s chest, licking the melted gelato he didn’t quite wipe off. He chuckled and lowered his sunglasses to nap under their umbrella. The wolf was quiet for the rest of the day, occupied by Sebastian Randall and his slothful antics.

Dominique had a similar tactic; tanning under the Mediterranean sun. Well over two thousand-years-old and not near her thirties, physically. If anything, Dominique looked like she could be mistaken for Ridley’s older sister; same as Renee and Aimée. Of the three sisters, Dominique was the most curvaceous. She - oddly enough - looked more like Ridley and Ryan than Renee did.

Ridley found herself using Tomás as a distraction; anything from returning to splashing in the waves to laying on his chest when they were too exhausted to continue. The past Sources, meanwhile, were also minding their own business. Perhaps they could sense that Ridley’s distractions only worsened her mood. They, at least, allowed her to enjoy the closeness with Tomás, even if it was in the Southern French summer.

It was a great day but the information had been gnawing at the huntress. Ankh was enjoying the pets and attention from locals and tourists alike, en route back to the castle, and kept quiet in Ridley’s mind. One woman even fed her some of the dog treats she had for her three beagles that were sniffing Ankh from behind. Ankh also played and pranced with a little girl in a wheelchair!

The remnants of the house of du Luq were trailing in the street, basking in the setting sun. Tomás walked the women in his life to a street stand, selling blood icicles. Dominique hummed, turning to the sun and letting it warm her face and her free-flowing, black curls. Her eyes were an icier shade of blue than Tomás’ and the sun made them glassy, transparent almost.

She tugged Ridley free from Tomás and they began a stroll back towards the beach. “Beautiful day, no,” she began. Ridley knew better than to answer; Dominique’s small talk was always the precursor to something else. “So peaceful. I wish Aimée were here for it.” Ridley looked aside. “That night...”

Ridley linked then their arms together and rested her head on Dominique’s shoulder. Dominique squeezed Ridley’s hands and sniffled. “Dominique, we-”

“No, no,” Dominique cut in. She took a sharp inhale then nodded to herself. “I want to protect myself and my family. We have lost Clarisse and Adrienne, we lost Aimée. No one else in my family will perish, not while I draw breath. I must implore you to train me.”

“Where’s this coming from?”

“You think I know not of your dreams,” Doninique countered. Out from her bag that carried towels, she pulled out the sketchbook from Ridley’s room. “Nothing goes on in that estate without me knowing of it.” Dominique ran a toned thumb over her niece’s knuckles. “I want to be prepared for the fight to come. I-I know I could never be so profoundly skilled as you, yet I want to try. That Danish tête de noeud has not only betrayed us; he has hurt you, he has hurt Tomás, he has hurt the she-wolf. He will not hurt this family any longer.”

To train the likes of this woman, Earnest advised, may prove invaluable. Another soldier in your army; you will need all the help you can get, Ms Axel.

You know as well as we do that the Source may not interfere! Leave this to the lesser bloods. This is their war, not ours!

I concur with Onuris, Ninsun voiced. Yet I know you will not listen.

“What say the wise men in your mind?”

“The usual,” Ridley answered. “Dominique, I know you want to help but the best help isn’t always on the battlefield. I know it may seem like a lie, but sometimes being the shopaholic rich aunt who likes playing dress up with her pain-in-the-ass niece is the best help you can be.”

“Show me, then, to defend myself at the very least, dearest. I watched that blaireau take you. I-I was a coward! I could have helped you. Freed you. I beg you, don’t let me be sans-couilles anymore.”

She senses it too?

Of course, she does! It came with her dreams.

Ridley set her arm on her aunt before stepping out of her earshot. “What, exactly, is Dominique sensing?”

What we all are, Ms Axel. An unparalleled danger. One greater than the godly fury of the Source.

* Tête de noeud: meaning ‘knothead’. This French insult is even ruder than its English equivalent 'dickhead’.

* Blaireau: the French word for a badger or a shaving brush. It’s similar to calling someone an asshole in English.

* Sans-couilles: figuratively, you lack courage but the translation is 'without balls' or 'no balls'.