“Same for me,” Vermillion said. “Thank you, Anika.”
The waitress withdrew downstairs.
“Blood is an unfortunate necessity,” Vermillion said. “There is no need to kill for it, though. In fact, people can’t wait to give it away.”
“Oh?”
“We’ve cultivated entire subcultures,” Vermillion said. “With a leather coat and tight, black pants, we get more blood and sex than we can consume. Literally more. I know people who have done their best to thin out the supply, as it were, but they didn’t even make a dent. There are always more young people, looking for a thrill.”
“Is it harmful?”
“No more than donating blood,” Vermillion said. “In fact, being fed on actually heightens resistance to most diseases.”
“Really?”
“Only with greater vampires. When lesser vampires feed, they release an anticoagulant into the blood that kills without drastic medical intervention.”
“Or healing magic.”
“If you can get it. This is why we stamp out lesser vampires.”
“But you actually provide disease resistance?”
“It surprised us too,” Vermillion said. “Back in the eighties, the Cabal conducted some studies into the potential dangers of blood-borne disease transmission by our more sanguinely oriented members. It turns out that rather than spread disease, the people we feed on are statistically less likely to get some of the nastier maladies floating around.”
“You conducted studies?” Jason asked.
“We didn’t have them published, obviously. They were conducted with rigour by experts in the field, however, and disseminated through our own channels.”
“And obviously, sunlight is not an issue for your kind,” Jason said. It was the kind of cold, clear winter day where the sky was pristine blue. Sunlight washed in through the large window, pleasantly lighting up the room.
“It’s a matter of magic,” Vermillion said. “Weaker members of my kind are affected by sunlight. I’ve also heard of stronger vampires being affected by it in unusual situations where the magic around them is more potent.”
“Interesting,” Jason mused. “I’d have to assume the ambient magic infuses the sunlight with properties antithetical to your condition. I have a friend who probably understands the process. How harmful is sunlight, exactly?”
“When it’s strong enough to affect us, we’re weaker and slower. Not down to a baseline human level, but I couldn’t speak for some of those higher-magic situations. I don’t know the circumstances in which they took place, so I’m largely going from second-hand knowledge. It also makes our more unusual powers harder or even impossible to use.”
“You don’t seem hesitant about sharing your weaknesses,” Jason observed.
“These aren’t secrets,” Vermillion said. “Once you’ve spent any time in the magical community, you won’t find that information hard to come by.”
“But you aren’t affected by this level of magic?”
“Not at all,” Vermillion said. “Only the weakest of our kind are.”
“But your Cabal doesn’t have just your kind, do they?”
“No,” Vermillion said. “Aside from individuals looking to follow their own paths, all the old magic falls under our aegis. We have many factions within our ranks, but we unified as the normals became more dangerous with the rise of technology.”
“Old magic, as opposed to new magic?” Jason asked.
“Yes,” Vermillion said. “You are an essence magician, yes?”
“Yes.”
“It’s only been around for around half a millennium. That is why we call it the new magic.”
11
A KNIFE IN ITS SHEATH
Vermillion and Jason paused their conversation as the waitress brought their food, along with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Jason nibbled at the food appreciatively as Vermillion opened the bottle. They refrained from continuing the conversation until the waitress had returned downstairs.
“Magic has always been a difficult and esoteric thing,” Vermillion explained as he poured the wine. “Some five centuries ago, a new kind of magic appeared. People with no connection to the old ways could suddenly wield a variety of easy-to-use mystical powers. At that time, they were a limited threat. They were collected into various secret societies around the world, hoarding their knowledge. Most importantly, their strength seemed to have limitations on its growth. While it can take decades and centuries, many of the Cabal’s members can slowly accrue power over time. I have been a vampire for seventy years, which is long enough to reach the second tier of power.”
“How do you name the tiers?” Jason asked. While the naming conventions would be subjective, the thresholds between magical ranks were not.
“There have been many terms of categorisation, across culture and language,” Vermillion said.
“I was taught to call them ranks,” Jason said.
“As the magical communities have become increasingly interrelated, the need for a shared terminology has led to numeric designations that are widely recognised. Whether you call them tiers, categories, realms, or ranks, like you, the same numbers are recognised across the board.”
“So, what are the numbers?”
“It starts with zero,” Vermillion explained. “That’s people who don’t have enough magic to cross the first, transformative threshold and become a true entity of magic. This is the one tier where the lines can blur a little.”
“Oh?”
“Take blood servants for example.”
“Blood servants?”
“Normal humans who have partaken of greater vampire blood, without going through the process of transformation. They gain superhuman strength and speed, depending on the strength of the blood. They may even reach the power of the first or even second tier, but this is temporary. Without regular ingestion of more vampire blood, that power fades.”
“That can’t be good,” Jason said. “I’ve never heard about it with vampires specifically, but I have been told that backsliding in rank can be quite an ordeal.”
Jason had heard about the side effects of ex-clergy who had offended their gods and been stripped of divinely gifted essences. This caused a debilitating imbalance in the body and soul.
“It is very much not good,” Vermillion said. “There is also a strongly addictive aspect to vampire blood, which is why the cultivation of blood servants is a frowned-upon practice in modern times. Just recently, we had a problem with someone quietly building up a large force of blood servants.”
“So, the other tiers are what you’d expect, lowest to highest?”
“Yes,” Vermillion said. “That puts you and I at tier two of five.”
“Not six?” Jason asked.
“Six? I’ve heard of some tier-four people within the Cabal, but I’ve never seen any. Rumour is that they’ve grown so powerful, there isn’t enough magic to sustain them and they’ve all entered forms of hibernation, hidden away for centuries. I’ve been told there is a fifth tier but never seen proof that’s anything but a myth. As for more… what’s beyond a myth?”
“A god. What you call the fifth tier is the limit of mortal power.”