The Afflicted Ch. 06

"So, I was sent away. One of the Council knew of the small enclave in Morocco which was one of the few places he felt might be safe from any corruption from Tacito's followers. Only he knew where I was going, and I decided to travel alone. For two months, I flew through the night. For two months I hid in cellars with a sword always at my side. For two month I lived without blood or Afflicted companionship, drinking the blood of farm animals and sleeping with mortal men to get me through, fighting every impulse to take one of them to mate.

"At last, I found our lovely friends in Morocco. Wives loaned me their husbands, or mothers loaned me their sons for over thirty years until... well, until I found you."

Palo was quiet for a long while. They both were. It had been an emotionally draining experience for Frederique to tell the tale, and a frightening amount of information for Palo to process.

"Why didn't you tell me this before," Palo said, finally, turning Frederique to face him.

"Palo, I don't want you to take what I say the wrong way - but I lived in Paradise. Christophe and I lived for centuries together in absolute bliss. Just to say his name still pains me. However, it went beyond that. To protect you, I never mentioned the name of Tacito or the war. Morocco was so isolated, that our friend there were lucky enough to be sheltered from the war that nearly ruined our kind. I was ordered not to speak of my history, or even mention my last name, until I was sent word. When the missive came from the Council that we were to go to America, there were three encoded words at the bottom of the page. It is done. That meant that they had proof the last of Tacito's followers had been eradicated and I was safe once more. "

Palo took her in his arms and looked affectionately into her eyes. "I am... how shall I say it... I am concerned for you that you have been hiding such a secret. Yet, I am proud of you as well. No wonder people here show you such reverence. I am so proud, so very proud of you, my love. I am also ready now to shed any selfish male pride because you are the better fighter. A woman who can defeat an army single-handed is one to be admired and nothing else. I am married to a warrior gueen. "

They soon dressed and began exploring the rest of the house. An Afflicted abode is one which must be lived in for days, weeks at a time if necessary. It was evident the prior owners had taken every effort to insure their home could be lived in for years at a time with no desire of ever leaving.

As they watched, a cloud of concern seemed to hover over Palo.

"Darling, what bothers you?' asked Frederique.

"It's just... something isn't making sense. I am confused by the Council."

"What do you mean?" asked Frederique.

"Sigrid is absolutely right. It makes no sense that no one was there to meet us when we arrived. To hide you away for nearly a century, and then have no one there to meet you?"

"It's true," said Frederique, quietly. "I had expected to have some sort of escort to be there when..."

As if on cue, a great bell reverberated throughout the house. They were near the entry and took a look through the viewer. Outside was a man whose face bore battle scars deep in his skin. Upon recognizing him, Frederique let out a gasp.

"Oh my!" she said excitedly. "Open the door, Palo."

The door opened and the gruff looking man stepped in. Once the door was closed, Frederique jumped into his arms.

"Aurelius!" she cried, hugging him fiercely and kissing his cheeks with daughterly affection.

"Frederique, my beauty!" he said, returning the affection in a way that ran contrary to his harsh demeanor.

When he put Frederique back down, she kept his hand in hers and turned to Palo.

"Palo, my husband, I would like you to meet Aurelius Scaurus, the finest warrior and fighting instructor the Afflicted has ever known."

"So this is the man who won your heart after the clockmaker, eh?" said Aurelius, looking Palo up and down with an appraising eye. "Good of you to choose a fighter."

He stepped up to Palo and grasped him by the forearm in a manner of greeting not popular for nearly two millennia. He also took Palo's shoulder in his other hand.

"Palo, good to meet you."

He continued to examine Palo with a steady eye.

"Good shoulders, frighteningly strong arms. Favor the Arab swords I see - I'd wager to say I wouldn't want to meet you on land with a seight. You'd have me disarmed in less than ten minutes. But as for the air... yes, you'll need work. Frederique never was much of a teacher. Hell of a fighter, but not too good at passing those things along. We'll remedy that, Palo, never you fear."

Frederique watched the exchange with amusement and Palo was taken so off-balance he couldn't do anything but stammer out a half-formed greeting.

"Now Aurelius," said Frederique. "To what do we deserve the pleasure? Surely your visit isn't simply to offer my husband fighting lessons."

"No," said the veteran of more wars than history could even remember. He was much more serious now.

"Frederique, Palo," he said, "we have much to discuss."

* * * *

Aimée waited patiently in the pristine, white room. She was sitting in the plain cotton gown they had given her. To her surprise, Abby poked her head in the door. She was dressed in a plain white dress that seemed to accentuate her curvy body in all the right places.

"Abby. What are you doing here?" asked Aimée.

"I work here, didn't I tell you?" said the vivacious redhead. "With my skills as an empath, medicine is of course my chosen path. I serve here at the clinic two hours a day."

"What are they going to do to me?" asked Aimée.

"Oh, poke, prod, take some samples. Nothing too bad. You'll like Dr. Villepreux-Power. She can come off a bit gruff - but she's brilliant and has a wonderful heart underneath."

"This doctor, what does she do? What's her gift?"

"As a mortal, she was a biologist who studied the water - the oceans. So, when she became one of us, as often happens, she found that her gift was to look into fluids. Her gift is similar to Galen's."

"Galen? The doctor who can look into the body? My mother spoke to me about him?"

"Yes. The poor man. He is... how shall we say, he is letting go."

"Letting go?" asked Aimée.

"Yes. Galen was with the first Colony. He was brought to help cure the first Afflicted, but actually had himself infected when he saw the potential of the Affliction. However, after more than two millennia, he has wearied of this life. As people sometimes do, he seems to be fading from us."

"Oh," said Aimée, not quite understanding. "So, this Dr. Villepreux-Power, she has the same gifts?"

"Not exactly," explained Abby. "Where Galen can see the whole system, Jeanne - Dr. Villepreux-Power - she sees the fluids. We have microscopes that you can put blood beneath and see the individual pieces swimming around. Our lovely Doctor can see everything swimming everywhere and needs no tools to do so. Between the work Galen did in the past, Dr. Villepreux-Power, and a recent recruit, a Dr. Pasteur - we are making gigantic strides in understanding the Affliction. Oh!"

Abby had trailed off, distracted.

"Abby, what is it?" inquired Aimée.

"Your brother is here?"

"What?" said Aimée. "How can you tell that?"

"With my gift," said Abby, shrugging. "If I know someone, I can sense their presence within a mile or so. If I know them well, I can detect them very far away. Jacob - well - I practically can tell where he is anywhere in the world. With Claude, because I 'met' him through you, I realized just now it was him."

Aimée had thought that Claude was out of her mind - at least she had tried to convince herself of that. Blushing, she realized she had simply been fooling herself. The very thought of him in the same building dredged up a hundred, contrary emotions.

"Abby," whispered the confused young woman, "can you tell... with your gift, can you tell if he's found someone else?"

"Found someone else, or fucked someone else?" asked Abby. "Neither are questions I think I should answer for you - but I can tell you that his heart is not given away yet, if that helps."

"It does," said Aimée.

It meant a great deal, actually. She had an odd sense of possession over her brother. She knew, with the sexual appetite brought on by the Affliction that any expectation of fidelity was unreasonable. She also knew taking him as her bloodmate was not in the stars - but she at least wanted him to wait a while - and an odd part of her consciousness wanted her to be granted approval over who he might choose.

They shifted their conversation to other topics.

* * * *

Claude was sitting in his own room, in his own white gown when a frightening pop sizzled the air just outside his door. At first, the sound of a deplaceur excited him - thinking it was Aimée. However, he realized that was a ridiculous thought. To his knowledge, Aimée had never been in this place, so how could she appear here.

His door opened and he was met by a very strange sight. First to enter was a slender, warrior-like woman who had an air about her that said 'weapon', and his assessment was right. The woman's name was simply Mary - but she was most often referred to as 'Bullet' for she was one of the most feared and respected deplaceurs among all the Afflicted. Along with Brolly, she was the top guard and courier.

Another woman followed her, and this woman gave Claude even more reason to pause.

She was old.

It is not uncommon for the Afflicted to see older people in their dealings with mortals, but even for Claude - someone new to 'civilization' so-to-speak - the appearance of such an elderly woman in an Afflicted institution was a bit odd. Even more strange, as the woman spoke and moved, her actions and youthful voice did not match her appearance.

"Hello, young - Claude is it? My name is Dr. Villepreux-Power and I'm here to examine you as a newly Awakened entry into our society and also to collect the samples for our fluid library. I haven't much time, so let us proceed. Spit, please."

"Pardon?" said Claude, bemused by this whirlwind of a woman who had breezed into the room.

"Take this vial, and spit," she said, handing Claude a tube and stopper. "Stop it up when you are done."

"Yes, all right but..."

Claude was still entirely perplexed by the dichotomy between the woman's appearance and actions.

"What are you gawking at? What seems to be the..."

"Eh hem," said the Bullet, gesturing to her own face.

"Oh, my goodness - I always forget," said the doctor. "Just one year. One year, young Claude, and I will be able to shed this all forever.

She turned away from him, removed a wig and pulled off a terribly ingenious mask. When she turned back, Claude was greeted by a woman who would perhaps appear mid-thirties in mortal terms, with the same piercing eyes - but a face that matched her energy much more closely.

"I forgot you were my first patient of the day. A little less than a year, and I will have my official 'death' and be able to step away from my mortal identity. It's been three years now since I joined the Afflicted. I'm very ready to leave the mortal world entirely behind. Now, back to business. Spit please."

She was already pulling out a glass syringe and affixing a needle to the end.

"Very well." Claude spit into the glass tube and stopped it up, handing it over to the Bullet.

"What is that sharp thing..." stuttered Claude.

"Mon dieu, do they tell you people nothing. My task is to compile a library of every member of the Afflicted and that is why I am here. I get your saliva, your blood, and two other samples of course. This is Bullet, my guard. Given the nature of your blood and Gifts, you can well imagine we don't want any fresh blood samples getting captured and let into the wild, so-to-speak. Now, time to draw your blood."

Claude barely had time to react as the doctor pushed back his sleeve and inserted a needle into a vein. The syringe filled quickly and Dr. Villepreux-Power screwed off the needle and sealed a cap onto it.

"Bullet, if you will," she said, handing it to the fierce-looking woman who labeled it and slipped it into a belt she wore around her shoulders that looked nothing so much like an ammo belt, though it held empty and full vials as opposed to ammunition.

"There we go - two down, two to go."

Claude looked up at her in confusion.

"Two?"

"Yes," said Madame Villepreux-Power. "Pop quiz. What other two fluids could I be thinking of?"

"Well, piss, I suppose."

"Yes, urine - and what would the other be?"

"Other... No!"

"Oui," said the brusque woman, smiling a bit of a wicked grin. "I'm guessing a young man like you would know how to produce such a thing. "

"Here are these," she said, handing him two sterile jars. "Put one of each sample into each of them and I will return to give you a quick examination."

"I uh... I'm not sure if I can fill these all the way," stammered Claude.

The biologist/doctor rolled her eyes.

"You don't need to fill them," she said. "Just up to the line for the urine and whatever you can with the seed."

With that, she was gone and Claude was left to stare at the chamber pot in the corner, and contemplate the other thing they were asking him to do.

* * * *

By the time Dr. Villepreux-Power had entered Aimée's room, Abby had already gathered the urine, the spit, and the vaginal swab she knew the doctor would want. The doctor took the blood sample from Aimée and peered into it the vial.

"Fascinating," the doctor said, peering into the vial. "A fascinating sample. Now, let me take a closer look inside of you."

Dr. Villepreux-Power put her hand to Aimée's chest and the doctor's eyes blurred as she lost herself. In a way, she was swimming through Aimée's system, taking a microscopic look through Aimée's veins, arteries, and even the limbic system.

"You're damned healthy," said the doctor, stepping away. "Quite the swimmer, I'd imagine. Your blood is fascinating, a mix of old and new strains of the Affliction which I've rarely seen. You've taken a lover, I see, a serious one."

"How can you tell that?" asked Aimée, blushing.

"Resonance, my dear," said the doctor. "The Affliction shines, in a way, and your symbiotic cells are well-aligned and poised to take the next step. You're so ready; I merely need to see the man's chart and I'd recommend the blood rite ceremony whenever you wish."

"Yes, but..."

Aimée trailed off, tears forming in her eyes.

"It's her brother," said Abby, touching Aimée gently on the shoulder.

"Oh dear," said the doctor, her voice softening as she looked to Abby. "Two pairs, no less. Well, I suppose you've been separated from him?"

Aimée nodded.

"Good," said the doctor, and then she took Aimée by both shoulders and looked her directly in the eyes.

"Listen to me, young woman. These emotions you are feeling are just as much biological as they are emotional. Your body and your Affliction have taken the natural steps of fixating on a desirable, familiar mate. The only way you can break that fixation is by finding others. This sexual hunger of the Affliction is just as real as the hunger of your stomach. Don't be stupid and try to deny it because of 'love'. I know how hard this is for you - but let our brilliant Abigail be your guide - she will help you get past this."

Aimée wiped away tears. "I'll try," she whispered. "I'm trying very hard to not sulk so much."

"Good girl," said the doctor. "Now, I've still got Tokyo, San Francisco, and Tunisia to visit - so I need to finish my rounds here."

Though it had seemed abrupt, Aimée actually did feel more comforted after what the doctor said. Being able to tell herself in scientific terms that her longing for Claude wasn't just in her heart -it somehow made sense.

"She's a fascinating woman," said Aimée after the doctor left.

"Oh yes, and absolutely brilliant. You have no idea," agreed Abby. "Once she... Oh dear!"

Abby was blushing furiously.

"What? What is it?"

"Oh nothing," said Abby, "it's just, someone is in need of some assistance."

* * * *

"Come on - get up! Get stiff you bastard!" muttered Claude angrily as he looked down.

The urine had been no problem. However, the second specimen...

"What's wrong with you," he said directly to his half-flaccid friend. "Every day, I can't get you to go down. Certainly not around Aimée or Mother - and now that we're alone you're suddenly shy! Come on you god damned traitor!"

Yet no matter what stroking he gave, no matter how hard he tried to imagine things - the sterile environment of the clinic and the isolated surroundings made it so he couldn't even get his one-eyed culprit even half-interested, or half stiff.

Dr. Villepreux-Power entered the room and found Claude seated in a chair, his hospital gown covering his body. He tried to look casual.

"Very good," she said, crossing to the urine sample and drawing up a vial's worth of the yellow fluid into a syringe. "Now for the other specimen."

"Yes, I just thought we could perhaps do that another time."

"Young man, until my dear friend Galen recovers from his depression, or another suitable doctor is found I am currently the primary physician in twelve clinics worldwide. I don't have time to jump back here when you find it convenient to do something I know young men your age do with amazing frequency. Even mortals. Abigail!"

Abby had already left Aimée and had gone down the hall to wait outside the door. Bullet was waiting outside patiently.

"Hello Bullet," Abby whispered.

The warrior woman simply nodded in return.

"You should tell him, you know."

The woman's hard features softened and she shook her head 'no'.

"How many men will you sleep with just to keep your need satisfied," said Abby, touching her gently on the arm. "You are of the greatest warriors of our kind; it isn't fitting of you to think of yourself as unworthy - regardless of the target."

Two tears dripped down the stern woman's face.

"Abigail!" said Dr. Villepreux-Power's voice from inside the room.

"Tell him," whispered Abby one more time, before opening the door.

"Abigail, there you are," said the doctor. "How do you get here so fast, it's like you're reading my... never mind, that's exactly what you're doing."

"How can I be of assistance?" said Abby, calmly.

"We have a young man having some difficulty with sample number four, my dear," said the doctor. "Please apply your unusual skills and assist him, if you don't mind."

"I believe I can help things along, doctor," said Abby with a glint in her eye.

"Very good," said the doctor. "Tokyo just has three patients today, I believe. I'll be back in twenty minutes or so. See that it is done, yes?"

"I will," said Abby.

All this while, Claude had been rendered entirely and completely speechless. Two minutes before, if you would have asked him to describe the perfect woman - he would have been hard pressed to decide between his mother and his sister. Frederique was like a mature wine, with all of its perfections brought about through experience. Then there was his sister Aimée, with her high breasts and athletic body. If his mother was the wine, his sister was the grape; fresh, crisp and full of the promise of life just beginning.

Before him stood a new example. This redhead was a combination of the two ideal figures he had in his head. This... Abigail, had the doctor said? She was more round and voluptuous than Aimée, but still in a youthful way. Her breasts were straining at the white fabric of her dress. Her hips curved out in wonderful ways. Claude was not in love, but he was most certainly smitten.