The Betrayer

Lo’rel and Shell

Shell debuts in Crow: The Outcast. Here is what led up to the scene you read in that novel...

Darlene fidgeted, flinching when the heavy stone lid of the sarcophagus abruptly slid open. She glanced furtively at her guest, then looked down.

"You brought her? It is not yet time."

The voice seemed to come from all around them, but Darlene looked at the sarcophagus, tears starting to flow. "She... I'm sorry. She found me too fast. I'm so really sorry."

Her guest looked at her, perplexed. Darlene looked away, wiping her eyes.

"She is armed."

"I mean you no harm," the guest interjected then grimaced at how that must have sounded.

"Your premature presence has already caused harm." Black mist seemed to flow around the top of the sarcophagus, surrounding a pale figure as it slowly sat up. "And yet, the harm is not that you found me."

The guest gaped when the figure stood up, towering over both of them. The mist coalesced into black strips of cloth that seemed to meld into a single, dark cloak. White hands pulled at the cloak as the figure stepped barefoot out onto the marble floor. "You don't understand. I..."

"You have been tracking me for several years." The figure pulled the hood back, exposing a chiseled, white face framed with almost glass-like, long hair. "Your offense was to invade the privacy of my daughter."

"She's... she's what, like thirty years old. Is she... did you make her like you?"

Darlene pursed her lips and looked down, repressing a grin.

"Both of her parents perished in the first world war when she was but a baby."

"Lo'rel adopted me," Darlene said quietly.

"From World War One? That’s like… how old are you?”

Darlene just grinned. The guest shook her head and returned her attention to the target of her search. “Lo'rel? That's your name?"

"And yours would be Patricia." Lo'rel smiled widely, exposing his prominent canines.

"I... prefer Shell. My..." Shell trailed off as she stared, transfixed by the creature before her.

"Your middle name." Lo'rel finished her sentence, kneeling down before her. He squinted at her and nodded. "How long do you have?"

"Come again?"

"I have committed no crime. For three thousand years I have lived here in anonymous obscurity, offending no one. And yet, you seem to be obsessed with me."

Shell bit her lip, staring at the figure kneeling before her. She glanced down at her holster under her coat.

"You know as well as I do that cannot harm me." Lo'rel grinned as he stood up. "But I think you do not quite comprehend why."

He turned to go. Shell reached out and grabbed his wrist, then let it go as fast as she touched it, shocked. "You... you're cold. You're really... real."

"I should hope so." Lo'rel looked back at her, amused. "But I fear that I cannot do for you what you seek."

"What do you know of what I seek?"

"You're dying." Lo'rel faced her again.

Shell swallowed and looked away.

"I can smell it. The Terran condition is so frail." Lo'rel seemed almost sympathetic.

"You can fix me. Make me like you."

Lo'rel regarded her for a long moment. "This isn't an Anne Rice novel, Shell. It doesn't work like that."

"Please. Nothing has worked. I'll do anything." Shell stood up, her hands trembling. She balled her fists, trying to stop the tremor.

Lo'rel vanished, and suddenly she felt his breath on her neck as he appeared behind her. "So, how is this supposed to work?" She shivered when he caressed her hair. "I'm supposed to plunge my teeth into your neck? Drain you to the point of death?"

Shell closed her eyes, trembling visibly now. She felt Lo'rel caress her neck with his lips and fought the urge to flee. She looked at the sarcophagus. Lo’rel noticed.

"I haven't fed for twenty years. It's why I have to sleep so much."

"I don't want to die," Shell said.

"Everyone dies, Shell. Even me."

"But... you're..."

"Fifteen thousand years, and yet tomorrow I may die. Or the day after." Lo'rel's breath puffed on her neck like a cool breeze. She shivered involuntarily and closed her eyes.

"I'm not even thirty years old. Please. Do it." Shell all but begged, keeping her eyes shut. She bent her head, exposing her neck a little more.

Lo'rel grasped her shoulders tightly. It felt to her like a bronze statue had just embraced her, and she prepared for what was to come. But, nothing came. She opened her eyes and looked around. Lo'rel was gazing at her, sorrow filling his complexion.

"Please?"

"You cling to life so tightly, and yet have forgotten how to live."

"How can I live if I have no tomorrow?" Shell wiped her eyes.

Lo'rel grinned sadly. "That was a rhetorical comment on the general state of Terrans." He glanced at Darlene and sighed. "You represent a security threat to me."

"I'll be yours. Please. I'll do anything." Shell shook her head, feeling impending rejection. She tried not to cry. She looked away, trying desperately to control her trembling and tears.

"No one should belong to another, Shell," Lo'rel said solemnly. "But I can help you."

Shell looked at Lo'rel sharply. "You'll do it?"

"What? Drink your blood?" Lo'rel made a face. "That's revolting."

"But... you... you're a..." Shell stammered.

"I'm a Keratian. We are shepherds of our source of food, and we preserve them rather than kill them. Only, that source has been denied me these past twenty years. You will help me regain what I have lost."

"I don't understand. I thought..." Shell stopped, not able to finish her sentence. She thought he was a vampire, and suddenly it felt silly to say it out loud.

"Yes. I figured that would be the impression you got once I made myself known to you."

"You... I found you," Shell said defensively, bristling.

"Of course you did." Lo'rel smiled condescendingly. He looked at her hands, which were still trembling. The shaking traveled up her arms, affecting the rest of her body. "I can hardly have you unable to perform the task I require of you." He vanished again.

Shell looked around, startled, then stared at Darlene. "You knew? He's not... what is he?"

"A Keratian," Darlene said matter-of-factually. She smiled, leaning towards her. "He's not from around here."

"Come here."

Shell looked at the sarcophagus. Lo'rel was sitting on the edge, holding a small brass cylinder in his hand. He pulled a small, brass patch from under his cloak and held it close to the device. Confused, Shell walked up to him. "What is that?"

"I have been in exile here for three millennia. But... I was able to stockpile a few things." Lo'rel held the patch up as he inspected it. "This should help with your symptoms."

"But..."

"I'm not a vampire, Shell." Lo'rel smiled. "The best I can gather, that is a myth that fearful Terrans created to explain me."

"You can't change me?"

"Why would I?" Lo'rel appeared appalled. "You're perfect the way you are."

"I'm dying?" Shell held her hands out, exasperated.

"No. Not anymore." Lo'rel placed the patch on her neck and held it there for a moment. "Leave that on for a few minutes."

"What?"

"You may feel like you have a cold for a few days." Lo'rel looked back at the device in his hand, then up in the air around him. He waved his hands at something, then looked at her. "That's perfectly normal."

"What did you... what are you?"

"A Keratian." Lo'rel grinned. "I thought I told you."

"Really?" Shell put her hand on her neck. Then she looked at her hand, gaping. It was no longer trembling.

"It would appear that your symptoms have abated. Your position at the FBI will come in most useful to me."

Shell took in a deep, trembling breath as she held both hands out in front of her. "You... I'm..."

"You'll need to return for more treatments," Lo'rel said as he retrieved the patch.

She looked at it, then at him. "Am I...?"

"You're still Patricia Michelle Morales." Lo'rel nodded, putting the device under his robes.

She stared at the robes as they seemed to caress his hand like a living thing. "You're not human."

"Naturally." Lo'rel cocked his head. "But..."

"You're cold. Hard. You moved that... like it was nothing." Shell pointed at the heavy, stone lid of the sarcophagus. "You have to be..."

"Like I said, the legends you have learned are fabrications to explain the unknown. But I do need to feed if I am to survive." Lo'rel sighed, gazing at Shell sadly. "And that is where my need of you comes in."

Shell looked at him and fidgeted. "Am I your... do you..."

"No one should own another, Shell. But I trust you'll help me nonetheless. My request is quite simple." Lo'rel nodded to Darlene, who steadied Shell when she sat down on the ledge of the sarcophagus next to Lo'rel. The Keratian took her hand in his. "My children can attest to my nature. Nothing I ask of you is a threat to you or anyone else. But I am coming to the end of my endurance."

Shell looked at Lo'rel blankly.

"Where I come from, we form a symbiotic relationship with a creature we call the Rodan. They feed us, and we protect them." Lo'rel looked down. "I could not bring any with me. They would not do well here." Lo'rel looked at her. "Twenty years ago, I lost access to them. I have not fed since."

"You want me to, what? Find one?" Shell pursed her lips, confused.

Lo'rel laughed and shook his head. "You would not survive on my world very long, dear Shell." He sighed and looked at Darlene. "But there is one who can help me." He shuddered a little and looked down, gritting his teeth. "He is not... normal."

"Another... you're from another world?" Shell asked, incredulous.

Lo'rel looked at her for a long, uncomfortable moment, and Shell fidgeted. "He will appear to be a young boy, but he has the power of a god."

Shell licked her lips nervously.

"No. He will not harm you. But... only he can get me what I need." Lo'rel sat up straight and picked at his robe. "However, and I must impress on you just how important this is, none of his entourage is to know about me."

"I don't understand."

"It is simple, Shell. I need you to bring me Steven Crow."

Shell furrowed her eyebrows as she looked at the alien that sat next to her. "From..."

"Seattle. I'm sure you're aware of the altercation at the William's residence?"

"Of course. That was a cartel hit..."

"If you say so. He was involved. I need him." Lo'rel grinned.

"You're not going to..." Shell left the question hanging.

"I feed on the Rodan, Shell. Just the Rodan." Lo'rel frowned. "The legends are truly disgusting."

"But... are you going to kill him?" Shell said hesitantly.

"It would seem that if he was to be killed, those who are responsible for him would have done so already," Lo'rel said thoughtfully. "No. But he will help me. It is in his nature, as peculiar as that is."

"Why can't you get him?"

Lo'rel smiled, sorrow filling his face again. "Because..." He sighed. "Because I'm dead. They must never know otherwise."

"Here's a cell phone you can use to contact us." Darlene slipped a phone into her hand. Shell looked at it numbly.

Lo'rel waved his hand, and Shell abruptly found herself outside the residence, standing next to her car. She turned around several times, stunned, and patted herself. Then she looked at her hands. The tremble was indeed gone. She closed her eyes as she tried to hold things together. She was no longer dying.

~~~

"I thought you were going to heal her."

"I did." Lo'rel smiled kindly at Darlene.

"But, you said she'd have to return."

"Additional motivation for her to help me. Besides, I like her."

"She's a bit young for you," Darlene smirked.

Lo'rel laughed. "My dear, you should know better than that."

"Are you sure there's no other way?" Darlene ran her hands down Lo'rel's arm, playing with his robe. "You told me about him."

Lo'rel looked thoughtful. "He's... an anomaly."

"He could destroy us. All of us." Darlene shook her head. "He changed the orbit of the Moon, Lo'rel. The Moon."

"Indeed. But he's the only one who can gate here now." Lo'rel said, shrugging. "My only other choice is to just die."

"Oh Daddy, please do not talk like that," Darlene said, wiping her eyes. "You've outlived all of your children. We all live on in you."

Lo'rel smiled and embraced Darlene. "No, my dear. I live on in you."