“Wow… Uh, the wound, I mean.” It’d stopped seeping and was now closed over with bright red flesh. It still looked painful, but the gaping wound that it was had closed, and that was the biggest worry. “I had no idea elf blood was so powerful.”
“Faerie. And yes… I will owe Yukihime for the generosity of such a servant.”
He didn’t like the sound of that at all.
Ash’s grumpy expression softened. “Thank you.”
“What? For what?”
“I know I can be rather… unpleasant at times. I appreciate… you.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He went to her and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “I’m only aggravated because I care.”
She shook her head, looking up into his eyes. “And I appreciate that. To have someone care for me in actions to back their words, it is… a much welcomed change.”
Tristan understood what she was saying. Malik used to charm her with his words but would act the exact opposite. He was a cruel man, locking Ash up for over two-hundred years. The thought that someone could be so callous left a bad taste in Tristan’s mouth. That she overcame such a trial spoke on the strength of her will.
“Daylight’s almost here, get some rest.”
She nodded, started to pull the blanket over her head, but stopped, lowering it again. “We need to speak… later, after the sun sets. Lucien’s death can be put off for one day.”
“You sure?” He was doing a mental list of their supplies. The fact that she had no more pythia juice was a big concern.
“We know where he is. I do not think he will be leaving anytime soon. We have time… there is always time.”
He harrumphed, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at her. “Okay… Wha’dya want to talk about?”
She only gave him a crooked closed-mouth smirk before lifting the blanket over her head. A small groan came from under the blanket and then she slumped. Realizing what just happened as he caught a glimpse of glowing sun out of the corner of his eye, he slammed the doors shut and backed away until his legs hit the bed.
He’d never seen her in her daytime “sleep” and really didn’t want to. Did that make him a coward? Maybe. There were a number of things that one might call him a coward for. Like not being able to tell her his real feelings, in basic, simple words. But this was Ash. A person he barely knew and yet felt like was meant to be with, no matter what. Maybe the pythia saw this too. It certainly felt like fate that they were together. The real question was, was it a fate with a happy ending?
15: Firestarter
HE was blind and numb. His vision was the deepest black, his body felt… ethereal. But he could still hear. Voices he knew called out of the darkness—mom and dad. Their collective chorus drifted through the ether and touched his brain, lighting up emotions of love, regret, fear, and anger… They were whispering promises to him. Some were beautiful, others brought with them images of pain and suffering.
He was torn between answering those sweet siren calls, living in ignorant bliss, and waking up, facing reality and his decisions and maybe doing something about it. As he hung in limbo, naked and blind, the world burst into heat. Without vision, he couldn’t see the brilliant red of those corporeal flames. Yet, even with no body, he could feel them. He was writhing, trying to move out of the pocket of heat that threatened to destroy him. Within seconds, he was in a full out panic. There was no escaping the red death. His very essence would be burned to ash.
A honey smooth voice rose out of the din of panic and touched him, slipping over his brain like cooled silk. That gentle voice washed over him, chilling the skin he couldn’t feel and he shivered. He knew the voice, he wanted it to keep speaking to him in its soft words, comforting him. He wanted to be saved.
Tristan’s eyes opened. “What?”
Ash blinked down at him, the front of her body pressed into his side under the blankets. “Are you okay?”
“Uh…”
“I was just about to enter your dream to start our discussion early, allow you to rest and talk at the same time, but then I… I felt the pain.”
“Pain?”
“You were dreaming of your parent’s car accident again.”
Is that what that was? She was probably right, but still, there was this nagging thought at the back of his mind that what he was experiencing wasn’t something that’d happened to him already, but something that had yet to happen. He couldn’t explain it really and in the end decided to just keep the uneasy thoughts to himself. If Ash heard, she made no indication.
“What time is it?”
Ash gave a little stretch with a soft moan before answering, “Nearing eleven.”
After Ash chomped on their dear butler, or whatever he was, Tristan had gotten into bed with the intention of sleeping all damn day. But it turned out the time change and the night’s events just put him off sleeping and he went down to the hotel bar and ate breakfast, on normal people’s time, then came back up to fuck around the room, watch stupid ass French daytime TV, drank the mini bar dry and then finally passed out sometime late afternoon.
Tristan reached out and brushed a lock of hair from Ash’s eyes. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about?”
She huffed, rolling away to lay on her back and stare up at the ceiling. “Nothing, it was nothing. We should get ready to go.”
He rolled over onto his side to look down at her but she refused to meet his gaze. “Bullshit it was nothing. You seemed like you had something really important to say to me.”
Ash’s eyes slowly shifted to his. “In all honesty, there is much I wish to discuss with you, but… I am afraid.”
“Afraid of what? Me?” His thoughts flashed to the “shower incident” and he had to hide a cringe. That was just another regret he’d live with for the rest of his life.
“No,” she said on a sigh and looked away. “I just… I have not connected, truly connected with another person since…” She stared off, brow pinched in deep thought. “Ah, well I suppose since Lyandros.”
He frowned. “Who is Lyandros?”
“Was,” she corrected.
“’Scuse me?”
“Not is, but was.” Her eyes quickly darted to his again. “My husband.”
He flinched. “Your… what?”
She nodded. “When I was still alive. Before Malik found me. Lyandros was my husband, and only one of a very small group of people in the whole world who would even have anything to do with me and mine.”
Tristan didn’t understand pretty much everything she’d just said, but was too hung up on the “my husband” bit to even contemplate it all.
Ash heard the thoughts that went along with that.
“I am sorry, I had not meant to—what I mean to say…” She sighed. “Yes, I was once married, part of a very small family, but that is hundreds of years past. Another life, one I remember little of and no longer feel the pain of their memory. All that is past, what I mean—Tristan.” She sat up out of the blankets.
Tristan’s eyebrow went high as he got a good long look of her naked torso, healed and perfect again.
She smiled faintly at his lack of discretion. “I am trying to put something into words here, words that I have not spoken for… a very long time in this way.”
Feeling the sudden seriousness of the situation, Tristan forced himself to stop staring at her magnificent naked figure and sat up to look her in the eye. The subtle fragrance that was Ash wafted over him and he breathed in deeply, letting her scent fill him.
He let out a breath slowly and said softly, “What are you trying to say?”
“Something that I should have said to you a while ago… Tristan, I am—”
Glass exploded from the other side of the bedroom door. Even Ash flinched at the sudden noise. And then she was off the bed and rooting around in the trunk, pulling out clothes and weapons.
“Wha—” Tristan started to ask.
“That was not Sebastian.”
“Of course not,” h
e grumbled as he climbed out of bed to search for some clothing. “Is it Lucien?”
Ash suddenly stopped fussing and stood upright, giving a soft noise of surprise.
“It is, isn’t it?”
She frowned. “No. No, not Lucien. It is… hmm, odd.”
“Odder than a vampire and a half breed Uruwashi living together?”
“There’s a skulk here.”
“The what, a what?” After pulling on a pair of boxers, Tristan went to the nightstand to get his gun.
Ash turned her nose up, pointing. “You cannot use a gun in here. Use this.” She threw a katana at Tristan he hadn’t seen before and turned her back on him again to dig in the chest. “A skulk, Tristan, is a group of fox. Akane is a kitsune, one of the shinwa.”
There was that word again, “shinwa”. Too bad he didn’t have time for all his questions. He’d just have to put it on hold, right next to the box marked “life”.
“Okay, I didn’t understand about ninety—no, one hundred percent of what you just said.”
Ash huffed. “Kit-sue-nay,” she said, breaking down the word for him and he shook his head not understanding. She stood and sighed as she slipped into a robe. “Kitsune are fox and a type of shapeshifter, though not the kind you are thinking. They—I do not have the time to explain it now, and I promise to later, but understand, they are not to be trusted. The kitsune are a small and mischievous lot that know nothing of civility and everything about getting into trouble. Be on guard.”
Always was. “Okay, so why are they here?”
“Cannot say. Kitsune almost never leave their designated holy grounds. I cannot think why—” Ash stopped short and turned to face the closed bedroom door, head cocked as she concentrated on the others. “They are searching for something. They think we have it, some sort of…” She stopped, twirling her hand around in front of her, annoyed. “Some sort of charm or talisman, I do not know. They think faster than I can possibly keep up with.”
Tristan raised a brow at that. “Well,” he said with a shrewd grin. “Let’s go ask.”
Barely dressed, the pair stepped out into the main space with only a single weapon each. Tristan hated not having his gun, but knew that Ash was right and that they couldn’t afford attracting attention. There was enough blood on Tristan’s hands without drawing innocent bystanders into the mix. Ash was just happy to have her beloved sword, Murasaki Kaeru, back.
The room was in perfect order, not even a drop of Sebastian’s blood from Ash’s meal last night to prove that it ever happened. Whatever had broken must have been from the fae’s room. They were just crossing the living space when something small and fuzzy shot in. Instinctively, Tristan grabbed Ash by the wrist, jerking her back as the red streak rushed them, stopping halfway across the room and uncomfortably close to the couple.
“I’ll be,” Tristan muttered under his breath. Sure enough, it was a fox, a little red fox with bright amber eyes, cute little fox ears and a white-tipped tail, which was currently poised on alert.
Tristan put on a welcoming smile and took a step towards the fox. “Hey, it’s okay little guy.” Behind him, Ash hissed at him to be careful. “Aw, but look at the little guy, he’s so small. Kinda cute really.”
Ash clucked and crossed her arms over her chest. “I would not do that.”
“Christ, will you lighten up?” He knelt with his hand out. “Do they talk?”
“She understands us,” Ash answered with a snide tone.
Tristan looked back, taking in Ash’s attitude. “You’re too uptight. Seriously, can you chill the fuck out, for just a minute?”
She opened her mouth to respond when the animal hissed and snapped. Tristan gave a little yelp and tripped when he was startled, tumbling back onto his ass. The moment he hit the floor, the fox jumped forward, snapping teeth. Whiskers tickled his calf it got so close.
“What the shi—”
Ash took a step forward, on the defense. “Do not let her bite you.”
“Why, what happens?”
“Their bites are paralytic.”
“Perfect,” he grumbled. “Hey,” he said to the little fox as he unsheathed his sword, done playing nice. “This is our room, so get out or tell me what you want.”
The kitsune danced at his feet, showing teeth and tail in a most aggressive manner.
“Thought you said they could talk.”
“I said she can understand us. Fox do not have the vocal capabilities to speak human words.”
“Of course not,” Tristan sighed. “What’s this one’s name?”
Ash shook her head. “I do not know. I only know that this one is not one I’ve met before.”
“Great…”
The little fox stopped it’s high pitched chattering and posturing seconds before another fox darted into the room, and then another. And another. Tristan backed up as he got a good look at the group staring up at him. There were four tiny red fox lined up in a perfect row. But the two in the middle, they were mutated in a most odd way. One had two tails, the other, five.
“The hell?” Tristan mumbled and then tensed when someone laughed from the front foyer. “Of course…”
Lucien strutted into the room, smug as ever in his dapper evening clothes. He looked like he’d just spent the evening out at the opera wearing a very well-cut tuxedo, complete with gloves, top hat in one hand and cane in the other. His brown-turned-nearly-white-blond hair was streaked with a few new ribbons of pure white and slicked back. He wore a soft flush as if the cold had chapped his face. The dried drop of blood on his collar didn’t go unnoticed by Ash or Tristan.
“Welcome to gay Paris.” He let out a drunken little laugh, swaying. “Fancy meeting you two here.”
“Did you kill him?” Ash snapped.
The vampire’s lips spread into a wide, closed-mouth, fucking stupid-ass smile. “And a good evening to you, Asta. Ah, always the worrier. You should really think more of yourself, dear girl.” He giggled around his fingers pressed to his lips. “No, he’s alive. Only just, mind you. I find the fae palate very agreeable. Mon dieu, it’s been ages since I’ve been drunk like this…”
Tristan scowled, more for the vampire’s presence and not the fact that he had been eating on Sebastian. That’s when he noticed the change in the young vampire. It wasn’t shockingly obvious, but Lucien’s eyes were lighter now than before, clear like citrine quartz. And his skin, while still a shade of white that nearly glowed in the dark, was even whiter. Almost Ash white, without the same appeal, mind you, and radiant. He glowed with the inner fire that was his ego.
Tristan motioned to the line of fox separating them from Lucien. “Friends of yours?”
“Something like that.” The almost non-existent accent Tristan had once perceived from the young vampire before was thicker now. French indeed.
“They have nothing to do with this,” Ash snapped. “Give their reifu back.”
Tristan raised a curious eyebrow, but kept his eyes on Lucien. “What’s going on?”
The question was directed at Ash but Lucien decided he wanted to answer. “It’s a game. A nice little game. Isn’t that right Akane, my dear?”
The fox with the five tails did a little dance with the most god awful noise Tristan had ever heard. He had to force himself to look away from the fox and back to his real enemy, hoping the animal wasn’t going to come at him. “This is between you and me, Lucien. Not the kitsune. Not Ash. Hell, not even Yukihime. Just you and me.”
Next to him, Ash made a little surprised noise, but kept her thoughts to herself. Because she knew Tristan’s reasons for wanting Lucien dead and it had nothing to do with avenging the people Lucien recently killed.
“No?” the vampire asked as he started to pace a slow line behind the wall of foot-tall fox. “You’re not as good at blocking your thoughts as you think you are.” Lucien’s citrine gaze shot to Ash, making her stiffen. “By the way, good to see the real you this time, Asta—a feminine you. Ah, I can’t even recall the
last time I saw you in a dress. But, yes yes, this face, your au natural, it suits you well, even if you do such a good job of keeping yourself masculine self pretty. And I do prefer my men to be on the pretty side.” His gaze flicked to Tristan. “Who doesn’t?”
“I’ve about had enough of your mouth, kid.”
“Fine! Be shy.” He resumed his pacing. “What are my crimes then?” He stopped and put on a deadly serious face. “Give it to me straight.”
“You slaughtered Yukihime’s children,” Ash answered first. “Such an insult will not be tolerated, Lucien.”
“Ha!” the young vampire laughed in the worst way. “Is that all? Worthless sacks of dead blood. Good for nothing but fucking and they weren’t even good at that. They didn’t even know how to play. Not properly anyway. But you, Asta, you know the game well. Oh god, can you play.”
Ash’s hands were shaking ever so slightly, her eyes full of barely contained wrath. She was going to put a serious hurting on that vampire the moment she got ahold of him and Tristan rallied at the thought. Together, they could stop him. This kid was nothing compared to Malik.
Lucien sighed, coming to a stop again. “Their deaths meant nothing to that old fart and you know it.”
“You lie,” Ash hissed, taking another step forward, looking more confident and no longer shaking, having corralled her emotions. “You did not slay them for poor sex. You would rape a corpse.”
Tristan’s eyes widened as he shot her a quick look. He knew she didn’t use the word corpse for vampire, but for a real dead person—vampire or otherwise. When he looked back to Lucien he felt sick. The look on the kid’s face… Jesus, she was right; he’d fuck a dead body.
“You killed them because you are angry,” Ash continued. “You are angry that your beloved Mistress was slain by Mast—Malik and Yukihime. You have been biding your time all of these long years and now that your powers are developing you think to exact your bloody revenge. You are a fool, a naïve child.”
Lucien cocked his head to one side as if in consideration, but his smile was forced now, eyes crinkled at the corners with anger. “Perhaps. But I’m not here to talk, Asta,” he said putting a lot of emphasis on “talk” and gave her a look, wiggling his eyebrows. “You always talk too fucking much. Women,” he scoffed looking to Tristan, “always talking. Am I right?”
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