The Real World: Real World, #5

By Eden Elsworth

In a world changed beyond recognition, the survivors are beginning to build new lives.

Nicola Ashbrook lived through the end of the world. Now she sets out in search of food. What she finds the country is populated by creatures she never knew existed. But the real threat could come from the humans who made it through the madness.

Vincent Malleson has waited over a century for his mate, but can she accept him for what he really is? Will she see beyond the murderer?

When their safe haven is threatened, they set out across a country full of new perils.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Eden Elsworth
• Release date: Sep 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781499754889

Book preview

Acknowledgements

With heartfelt  thanks to Ava for all her help and encouragement, Melissa for getting me started, Sue for all her help with editing, and especially to my wonderful partner, Jack Silince, for all his patience and help.

A human’s guide to the Real World

Dryads - Dryads are the embodiment of a tree’s living spirit. They have the peculiar characteristic of changing their appearance of age with their mood, with the exception of Iws, which always look ancient. Iws are the spirits of yew trees and they make up a ruling council of dryads, known as the Iwhad. All dryads are known by the Old English name of their tree variety. Dryads are all sexless and leave reproduction to the trees they inhabit; new dryads form naturally within a tree once it is mature enough to support the additional life. Though very rarely seen by humans, they are treated with respect by other Real World creatures. Always treat Bercs (birch) with extreme caution as they will deliberately send you in harm’s way if they can. As they get older, many dryads begin to create long verses that can take hours to recite through its tree’s leaves.

Gifts - All dryads have the ability to search the minds of flesh-based races. They can also manipulate the memories of flesh creatures. Dryads are the source of prophecies in the Real World

Elves - Elves are a race made up of tribes and clans. Tribes are groups of several bloodlines that live together, hidden from the human world. The majority of tribes live in rural locations. Clans are single families and live closer to humans. Elves can be distinguished from humans by their gold eyes that glow with the energy they absorb. Elves cannot eat meat or drink alcohol. Because of the elven belief in keeping their bloodlines pure from dilution from outsiders (blood purity), they are not viewed favourably by other creatures. Contemptuous of humans, elves will, however, make use of their natural beauty to lead humans into sexual encounters. Elves have a particular hatred of faeras.

Gifts - Absorbing energy from the ground, communicating with animals, phasing out of sight. Clan elves have more evolved versions of some of the lesser gifts, such as healing and absorbing pain from others.

Faeras - Faeras are a warrior race, sometimes likened to Vikings. They live a high-octane existence of feasting, drinking and fast motorbikes. Their diet is mostly meat based.  All faeras live alongside humans with perfect ease. They have a complex culture full of ritual. Faeras are distinguished by their either light or dark eyes that reflect other colours. Their eyes also contain silver flecks that can spark with their emotions. Protective of their families, faeras are only dangerous when crossed, otherwise they are affable and sociable. They are most easily identified by their tattoos of complex knot work designs and preference for wearing leather. Faeras reciprocate the elves contempt. At one time, there were two courts of faeras, Blessed and Unblessed. Now only the Unblessed remain. The myth of fairies being repelled by iron can be traced back to the faera legal system: Any faera sentenced to death would be executed with their own sword.

Gifts - Plant manipulation. All faeras can make plants grow by placing their hands on or close to the plant and focusing on what they want the plant to do. They have incredible stamina, meaning they can cover vast distances on foot without needing to rest. Their warrior training from childhood means they are all exceptional fighters.

Gyptish - Descendants of the Egyptian goddess Hathor, the Gyptish are viewed as humans as being the same as Romany gypsies. However, they are very much a part of the Real World. Like their Romany cousins, they live a mobile life. Their leader is known as the Heart and Mouth of the Mother. The Gyptish have no concept of property, so are often at odds with others for taking what they view as free to anyone. Though virtually unknown of, even in the Real World, those who are aware of their existence have reported the eyes of a Gypt can turn white.

Gifts - Gypts are all mildly psychic. Some are talented seers. As with many other Real World creatures, they are stronger and faster than humans, though not to the same degree as halfbreeds.

Halfbreeds - Part human and part vampire, halfbreeds need to consume both blood and ordinary food. They are created when humans treated after vampire attacks are prevented from turning fully. The treatment was the brainchild of one Dr. Lindsey, though not successful until after his death, when his son continued his work. The Lindsey family still treats victims of vampire attacks. Though they pose no threat, halfbreeds can terrify humans with eye contact. The only time they are likely to be a danger to others is if they are kept from their mates. All halfbreeds have voracious sexual appetites and these can only be satisfied by their mate. Recognised by their black eyes, hence their other name of blackeyes.

Gifts - Faster and stronger than when they were fully human, halfbreeds also have heightened senses. Many halfbreeds have some psychic ability, though this varies from one to another. Their gifts can be combined and increased by physical contact with another of their kind.

Imps - Imps have no trace remaining of their own culture and live entirely in the human world. In evolutionary terms, imps are the cousins of elves. Imps have a unique aging process, growing to the age their spouse will be when they meet, then staying that age until they are espoused. Their aging after that depends on what creature their spouse is. Imps are only able to achieve fertility with their spouse. They are identified by their green eyes, a true green that can emit some light when they are particularly energised. Light is also emitted when they have sex with their spouses. Harmless, though occasionally tricky. Imps have an affinity with water and always live close to a river. They need the energy created by running water and absorb it in a similar way to elves from the ground.

Gifts - Absorption of energy from water. Hydratransmutation is a rare gift amongst imps, one that enables them to transform their bodies to water. It is commonly known as ‘going liquid’. Imps can take the energy from a human, and give it as well. If enough energy is absorbed from someone, it will render them unconscious.

Lady Sabrena (The Lady of Justice) - Born to a Blessed Faera mother, Lady Sabrena was sired by a mixture of elf, faera, imp and picsa. Thousands of years old, she is the ultimate justice for Real World creatures, and inspires fear in all who know of her. Though she will help those who ask it of her, she only does so at a very high price. Use extreme caution at all times when dealing with her. Highly dangerous.

Gifts - Being a mixture of so many creatures, her gifts are limitless.

Lukos - The lukos are more commonly known as werewolves. The lukos race originated in Eastern Europe and gradually spread out from there through the infection of humans. They transform to their wolf form in the two or three nights before and of the full moon, when they lock themselves away to protect others from their infection and appetite for flesh. In human form, they are impossible to distinguish. The lukos have a well-earned reputation for being extremely aggressive and territorial. Treat with caution, particularly approaching a full moon.

Gifts - All lukos are exceptionally fast and strong, particularly during the nights they transform. They have good night sight and their hearing is equivalent to that of a true wolf. A lukos will heal any injuries in minutes.

Naiads - Naiads are the spirits of the water. They live in rivers and lakes, often bearing the name of their body of water. They are usually thousands of years old. Comprised of water held in a human form by a centre of pure water energy, they generally have a watery appearance, though can look more solid if they wish to. They work to keep their homes clean and running efficiently. Not likely to be seen, they are usually harmless. Not naturally occurring, naiads are created by elves and imps combining their energy manipulation and passing it through dryads.

Gifts - They have the ability to move their form between liquid and solid and in solid form can breed with imps, though not with each other. Being made of energy, they can move and manipulate the energy from any moving water source, including flesh creatures.

Nereids - Nereids are very similar to naiads, only based in salt water. Unlike naiads, nereids are not created but born. They can live for thousands of years, though many chose not to. Nereids sometimes take mates from amongst the land-based creatures. The children and descendants of these unions are always drawn back to the sea.

Gifts - As naiads, they can shift their form between solid and liquid. They can predict storms. 

Picsas - An extinct race, picsas were identifiable by their fang-like pointed teeth and vividly blue eyes.

Gifts - Unknown.

Vampiros - The vampiros, or vampires, are another creature that has spread out from Eastern Europe. Dangerous at all times and entirely dominated by their hunger for human blood, they should be avoided at all costs. The vampiros form into small packs (more than four together tend to end up killing each other). They are only loyal to their parent, the vampire that turned them. They have a particular weakness for the blood of children and always kill them rather than turn them, which is why they are always adult in form. The easiest way to recognise a vampire is by the simple fact of not wanting to look at them at all. They have red eyes that give them their name of redeye parasites. Never approach.

Gifts - Stronger and faster than halfbreeds, they also have exceptional senses. Though lacking the halfbreeds psychic gifts, the oldest vampiros can learn to manipulate the air and solid matter with their minds. One theory suggests this is due to the sheer number of conscious minds they absorb when draining humans to death

.

One

Tinned peas. Tinned potatoes. More bloody corned beef.

Even though she hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours, Nicola thought she would definitely puke if she had to eat either one ever again, especially the vile corned beef. What she really wanted was something out of the water. Salmon. Her mouth watered. Prawns, in a stir-fry, mixed with bean sprouts and thinly chopped vegetables.

Sashimi. She loved sashimi. She could happily eat it every single day. Nicky had almost sexual fantasies about sashimi.

She groaned, her mouth suddenly awash with saliva. How long was it since she had eaten fish? She glanced at the calendar hanging off a nail hammered into the white-painted brick wall. Weeks was the answer. She had been shut in this cellar for over three weeks now. In theory, anyway. Her marking of time was more hypothetical than accurate. Without a window, it wasn’t all that easy to tell when it was.

At the first sign of everything going mad, her barmy granddad had sent her down here, ordering her not to leave.

Granddad had loved conspiracy theories: Roswell, JFK, even Princess Diana’s death. The crazy old coot had bought into every single one of them. His favourite one had been a hang-over from the Cold War that had dominated such a large part of his life. He was absolutely convinced the Communists were all still out there, just waiting for a chance to amass once more and strike back at the west. Hence the cellar: Granddad’s personal nuclear bunker, complete with a food store tailored for his own – far too limited – dietary preferences.

She had been locked in down here on her own for twenty two days, or so she thought. Her granddad had gone. He’d left to find out what was happening after the media crash, and never came back. Nicky didn’t want to think about what had gone on outside her prison. She had concentrated on all the things she wanted – craved – rather than dwelling on that, pushing aside her grief for the mad old man who had raised her alone. Most of the time, Nicky made herself pretend her granddad was just the other side of the cellar door, and all she had to do to see him was open it.

The worst craving was for water. Not for drinking. There was plenty of bottled water stored in the cellar. Nicky wanted to be immersed in water, to swim; to float without any thought of what had happened.

Swimming had been her life, something she would have done all day every day if she could. She was damn good at it too. In the water she felt at home; energized and alive. She had never tired in the way those she competed against had, like the water fed her as she moved sinuously through it, her body undulating like a sea serpent.

Her vibrant green eyes fell on the stack of tins as her belly growled fiercely yet again.

No damn way I’m eating that lot, she said, pushing her fiery red hair back from her forehead. She quickly pulled it up into a ponytail, wondering if she could exercise her way through the griping in her belly. Exercise was all there was left to do apart from sleeping. She had read what magazines there were, though they were all old ones of Granddad’s. Now Nicky knew more than she wanted to about 1963: the rise of The Beatles, the Great Train Robbery, and the Profumo scandal. Nicky knew Jim Clark had been the Grand Prix world champion that year. She could list various conflicts: Katanga, civil rights in America, Peru, Vietnam, Syria. On and on. It was a long list, one she hoped she would eventually be able to forget when none of it seemed relevant anymore, though she had a horrible feeling it was all stuck in her head forever.

For the last week, Nicky had been wondering if she should risk leaving the cellar for a while, then she could look for something different to eat. Food had become an obsession, something to mull over for hour after hour. She tormented herself with thoughts of fresh, sweet fruit, steaming vegetables, grease-laden cheeseburgers, and succulent fish.

Though it had been quiet outside for quite a long time now – the chaos only seemed to last for a week or so – Nicky was much too terrified to unlock the door at the top of the stairs and venture out. But if she didn’t go, she had to eat some more of the corned beef that made her want to throw up. Silently, she cursed her grandfather for his addiction to the God-awful processed meat. Would it really have hurt for him to stash a few tins of tuna or salmon?

If she had known the cellar would actually be needed, she would have made a point of adding some proper food to the stash. She started to compile a shopping list in her head, until thinking about the food made her stomach growl like a wild beast about to devour her.

She knew she faced a decision between puke, starvation and danger.

What to do?

* * *

Okay, kid, what’s on the menu today?

Kellan Irensol looked up from the onions he was cutting, wishing Vincent would stop calling him kid. He was nearly forty years old, for Herne’s sake! Granted, Vincent was well into his second century, but still.

Vince, I don’t know if you’ve noticed yet, but I look nearly old enough to be your father, Kellan observed, sighing because he knew it didn’t matter what he said to the halfbreed, nothing would stop the comments.

The younger looking man just grinned in response. As he barely looked around twenty years old when he was cross, the mischievous smile gave him the appearance of a teenager. Vincent had been just twenty two when he was attacked by a vampire, ending his human life and thrusting him into a reality he had been completely unaware of. It was the same for all halfbreeds: unlike those born in the Real World, they had to get up to speed on it all before they were let out into the world after their treatment.

Kellan had been born in the Real World, in this house; his parents had ostensibly been Vincent’s servants, as had his grandparents before, although really they were family for the unmated halfbreed. Kellan had looked up to Vincent like a substitute parent after his own parents’ deaths, an older brother as he hit his teenage years. More recently, Kellan had come to see that, although the halfbreed was so much older, mentally, he was stuck being the age he had reached before turning, and their roles had reversed somewhat. But Vincent still liked to remind the faera which one of them was actually the older.

Dinner? the halfbreed reminded.

Go and catch yourself a human to chomp on, Kellan muttered.

Good idea! A little exsanguination wouldn’t go amiss, Vincent remarked and studied his reflection in one of the saucepans, rearranging his hair a little, making sure a few stray strands were put back in the right place. Kellan had never taken much notice of Vincent’s vanity. Coming with?

The faera shook his head. You go out and find some food to play with. I want to exercise while this is cooking.

You never take me nice places, Vincent pouted, flicking his long blond hair back in feigned pique. It was done in a way that made it hang more attractively, something that must have taken him years of practice to get right. Don’t you love me no more?

Idiot, the other man chuckled, shaking his head. Okay, I’ll come with you, but it means we’ll be eating late again.

* * *

Nicky had finally made a decision. She had opened a tin of corned beef, taken one sniff of the mushed, pink meat inside, and dry retched; there wasn’t anything left in her belly to bring up. She had to find some edible food.

Looking at her granddad’s collection of old wartime weapons, all of them stashed down here out of sight because they probably broke at least half a dozen laws, she hesitantly chose a knife she vaguely remembered the potty old man had told her was from the First World War. The blade was thin, like a needle almost; a knuckle duster formed a sort of hand guard. It felt heavy in her hand, and not because of its weight. For a moment she couldn’t help wondering if anyone had ever lost their life on the blade. She pushed that thought aside quickly.

Time to go hunting fresh food, she ordered herself in a firm tone, gripping her weapon tightly by the handle in an attempt to convince herself she was ready to see what had happened to the world outside her prison, though really she was utterly terrified.

Approaching the stair-top door, Nicky swallowed before she unlocked it, trying to prepare herself for what lay beyond, hoping it wasn’t going to be too gruesome, yet knowing in her heart it was going to be so much worse than she could possibly imagine.

The first click of the key in the lock made her heart leap up to her throat. She waited, listening for any sounds on the other side of the door.

Nothing. Beyond the door was silent as the grave. Appropriate, she commented grimly inside her head. The last time she had seen the outside, it had looked like one big open mass grave, one getting filled