I could sense the gears turning in her pretty head. She flipped her curtain of black hair and tapped a finger on her chin, deciding how to maximize the insult she chose for an answer, but Wulfric uttered a noise that would have been a growl in most animals. Anna’s eyes went wide, and she receded into the couch, beaten back for the moment.
“I’m here about Amelia,” she said with finality.
“What’s wrong with my daughter?” Wulfric asked, his voice ripe with suspicion. There was only one thing Wulfric loved more than me, and that was his daughter. She was nearing three years of age and thought Wulfric painted the stars in the sky. I tended to agree with her in that regard, mostly because he looked at me like I was everything in the heavens, too.
“Nothing!” Anna snapped, her hands fluttering. She lost some of her usual cool, a rarity that I savored, if only for a moment.
“Then what?” Wulfric was rather boisterous given that he wore only a towel, but to her everlasting credit, Anna ignored his state of partial undress.
She gave me a cool look, then sighed. “I need help. She wants a party.”
My spirits soared. “A birthday party?” It was all I could do not to jump. I love birthdays, and I live for parties, so the idea of adorable little kids smearing cake all over the place made me short of breath. I got happier with each passing second as Anna regarded me with curious bemusement.
“Yes, for her third birthday. You know, the one that’s coming up. So, will you help?” Anna’s face closed back up, her unsavory mission complete. I didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to just be nice and ask people to join the fun, but Anna was part cat. Nothing she did made sense, not even to Gus.
“Of course we will,” I said, twisting the knife a little and enjoying it. I’m not proud of myself at times, this being one such occasion.
“We will?” Wulfric asked, overwhelmed by my enthusiasm and the uneven mood of the room.
“And how,” I gushed. “What are the limitations? Are we talking bouncy house only, or . . . ?” I drew out the question as an invitation for Anna to comment.
“Bouncy house?” Wulfric asked, bewildered again.
“Inflatable playhouse, you get in and jump around. It’s pretty much the most fun I’ve ever had--I mean, that the kids can have. Ever,” I corrected.
“You realize it’s her party, right?” Anna asked. Her arch tone wasn’t unwarranted, although she was small enough that if she took her shoes off, the playhouse was fair game for her, too.
“Of course. Got a little carried away. Ok, if I may?” I stood, warming to the occasion. “A waffle bar, of course. Sundae bar, too, and none of the cheap stuff. Crushed up candy bars, real whipped cream, umm--fudge! I’ll make fudge sauce. We’ll have to cook for the parents, too--wait, who will send invitations? Can you do that, Anna?”
Wulfric and Anna were silent, watching me with expressions of concern.
Anna nodded, slowly. “I can do the invitations. Where will we have it?”
“Here, of course. I’ll bring in a tent,” I said, craning my neck to look out over the back yard. “We’ll have a bouncy house, of course, and something with water that can get the kids soaking wet.”
“I have a request,” Anna said.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes and tell her that a hookah bar was inappropriate for three year olds. “Okay?”
“No clowns.”
I snorted and forgave her a tiny bit. Since the circus had been in town, we tended to avoid clowns. As for Canadians, well, they were delightful, and still welcome. “Fair enough. What about the floaty duck pond thing?”
“I--never mind,” Wulfric said, closing his teeth with an audible click.
“I can run that. I’ll get the prizes, too. The party store in Saranac has big bags of goodies,” Anna said, and damned if she didn’t sound genuinely helpful.
“Okay, how many kids?” Amelia didn’t go to preschool, given that Gran, Tammy, and Wulfric had claim to her on various days and nights. She lived a whirlwind life where everyone was always thrilled to see her, just as it should be. That meant direct friends, people who knew us from our jobs, and kids from the library summer reading group. I did a little math, coming up with a number between twenty and forty.
“Less than forty?” Anna suggested, ticking invisible children off on her fingers.
“Forty? Children?” Wulfric sounded horrified. “In this yard?” He looked over the green expanse like an invading horde was around the bend. In a sense, he was right.
“And their families and parents. So, call it a hundred people. I’ll need two days off to cook, one to shop-- can we ask Alex to help?” Recruiting Anna’s brother would be a massive boost. He was great with kids, quietly efficient, and capable of running interference between me and Anna if things got tense.
Around Anna, things were always tense.
Wulfric sat down on the couch, which creaked in protest. “A hundred people eating and pillaging. I have lost this war. I will need my own, ahh, bouncy house in which to retreat.”
I patted his shoulder in sympathy. “Sorry, love. You’re too big. There’s a weight limit.”
“You mean I have to endure this invasion without a place of respite?” He groaned as I stroked his hair. “I always thought a dragon would kill me, not a mob of children whose minds are afire with a lust for more sugar.”
“A suggestion?” Anna’s lips pulled into a half smile. When I nodded, she gestured to my grill which sat covered on the back porch. “We could cook some giant sort of meat thing for the adults. Wulfric could work the grill and stay productive, but kind of safe from the horde.”
“Heyyyyy. . .” I began, seeing Wulfric’s glum face brighten. “Right? Cook for the parents? Pitmaster and all that?”
After a moment of feigned consideration, he nodded. “That is acceptable. Will I be able to wear my apron?” I’d given him a custom apron with bears all over it, and he’d been itching to wear it.
“Of course. Now then, let’s agree to rally back here for the first birthday committee meeting, say next week, same day. Eight o’clock?” I looked at Anna, hoping she would grasp that it was both a suggestion and a dismissal.
“Good enough.” She stood, moving to the door like mercury, then opened it and spent a moment framed by the dusk. She looked small and alone, and I felt a pang. That had been me, before Wulfric, although I had Gran and Gus. Anna had Alex and Amelia, and not much else. I resigned myself that Anna, like Amelia, would always be a part of my life. That changed things for me, and thoughts of growing old with Wulfric made the irritation seem worth it.
When she vanished across the lawn, I closed the door, locking it behind me, but before I could turn he lifted me into the air again. His freshly shaved cheek smelled of soap and whatever it was that made up his essence, a masculine undertone that filled my senses.
“Take me upstairs,” I murmured in his ear. His only answer was a kiss while we ascended, the muscles in his legs propelling us smoothly upward without pause. Then the soft covers of our bed were on my back as he lowered himself to me in the last golden light of the day, and I rose to him, flower to sun, watching as the wonder lit his face from within. All mystery fell away as we met, his face telling me he felt the same.
This thing we had was more than love, I thought, burrowing into his shoulder as the gloom of evening grew around us. It was a circle, an orbit filled with our need, warm and bright and dizzying. It was my place, and his. He was my home, and I was his harbor.
With a final sigh, his heart slowed, and we slept.
Chapter Eight
Moon over halfway
The moon woke me, and then I nudged Wulfric. Silver light streamed in the window, setting my senses ablaze at the sight of her hanging in the midnight sky.
“Three quarters full tonight, enough light for you, love?” I asked, my voice muffled by his hair.
He stretched languorously, joints popping in a symphony of noises that indicated he was far more human than he’d been a year earlier.
He squinted out into the night, testing the remnants of his vampiric sight. “Quite. I’ll be able to see to some depths from the moon alone. The rest will be my eyes. I am up to the task, but the question is, are you?”
“How so? I stand on the point nearby with a spell ready to cook anyone who looks at you crossways. I won’t even have to get my toes wet,” I assured him.
“As you say.” He kissed me and performed some amazing gymnastics in order to remove himself from our bed without plopping me on the floor. He stalked to the bathroom, a rippling mass under the streaks of moonlight. “If you’ll excuse me,” he said with the tone of a mortician, closing the door with a definitive click. He’s still a bit of a prude, despite our relationship, and I smiled into the pillow at his need for privacy.
A muffled cry through the door made me bolt upright, scattering bedclothes and kicking my feet in a futile storm of activity. “What is it? Wulfric?” Alarm began to build as I drew a spell to my tongue, ready for something unpleasant.
The door opened to reveal him in naked glory, holding his swimsuit out like it was a venomous snake. “I have a problem.”
“Your swimsuit attacked you?” I asked, stepping my alert down from imminent doom to seriously?
He tsked, a sound so unlike him I giggled at his prim composure. “When you’re done mocking my plight, please find the other shorts you bought me with the ridiculous planets and stars on them. I shall wear those instead.”
“Why?” I stared at him. What had the aliens done with my boyfriend?
“These are wet, and cold. Also, they’re uncomfortable and I would rather not chafe. A man must draw the line at certain cruelties. This is mine.”
I started to snort again, then realized he was serious. “Babe, you lived in the woods for a thousand years. You’re a Viking. And a vampire, kind of, and”--
He gave me a mulish toss of his head. “I liked it better when we were snuggled up in the bed.”
“Okay, the fact you said snuggled is totally adorable but I--never mind. I’ll get the other shorts, unless you prefer to skinny dip?” I accompanied this with Tammy’s signature finger guns, but he demurred.
“I don’t want to be exposed in the lake. There are some rather enthusiastic pike.” His smile was just this side of a leer. We were getting weirder as we spent time together.
In minutes, he was dressed and ready. We walked to the lake, avoiding Main Street and sidling up to the silent area where he would slip into the water once again. Sure enough, lights wobbled across the beach, a sign that active patrols guarded access to the wreck.
“What’s going on here?” I asked in a low voice. This seemed excessive, even to my paranoid mind.
He crouched before the water, removing his shirt and handing it to me. My witchmark began to tingle at once when he touched the water with a pale foot. “I don’t know, but I think we can assume that Officer Domari is a liar and a fool.”
“Why do you say that?” I asked, my lips near his ear. The flashlights were moving away, their yellow globes of light bobbing in the distance.
“I’ll explain after I get a look. My eyes are adjusted well, dear heart. I won’t be long; protect me from here.” He kissed me and slid into the water without a ripple, leaving me only with my fears and a growing sense of magic lurking nearby.
I folded into a seated position and let my charms comfort me, their kinetic buzz dancing across the palm of my hand. I was almost invisible, so discovery wasn’t an issue, but I wanted to see when Wulfric surfaced. I didn’t have long to wait. He rose less than ten feet from the prow of the ship, its dark wood gleaming in the moonlight. With a deep whuff, he inhaled and dove, the wavelets of his passing dispersing against the outside edge of the ship.
Silence fell over the water, save the occasional bark of a dog in town. The weight of being alone pressed on my shoulders, a soft menace that made me look over my shoulder more than once as I waited those grinding minutes for him to surface or return to me. Still, nothing. A loon cried to the south, disturbed by something coming too close to her nest. A frog coughed once, then a truck started behind me, drove for a moment, and went quiet. The seconds dragged, and my chest began to burn for Wulfric.
“Come up. Please. Now.” It was part wish, part chant as I stared at the water so hard my eyes begin to cross.
And then he appeared, just to the left of my gaze, a dark streak in the water making ripples that broke the mirrored lake into geometric wedges fleeing his passage. He swam faster than any human I’ve ever seen in the water, and I jerked to my feet with a hand extended like a weapon.
Because that’s what it was. Wulfric wasn’t swimming, he was fleeing something, and even if it roused everyone for ten miles I was prepared to boil the lake dry if anything tried to hurt him.
He arrived in a rush, slick with water and shaking. “Cold down there,” he managed before kissing me in thanks.
I understand fear, and Wulfric had seen something that frightened him. In turn, that scared me to my bones. “What is it? Want to explain at home, where it’s quiet?”
He shook his head violently. “Gran’s. We need to talk.”
A knot of fear wormed its way into my stomach, and, for once, I wished my witchmark had never risen.
Sometimes, I hate being right.
Chapter Nine
Ring of Truth
I sat at Gran’s table with a mug of tea and a problem, just as I have so many times before. Wulfric looked waxen, eyes unfocused and slumping. He was not the same man who’d gone under the water an hour earlier.
Gran sat down, pulling her robe about her with a decisive flick. She reached out and took Wulfric’s enormous hand, turning it over from some instinct that had bypassed me during the few minutes it took her to prepare tea and let us catch our breath.
“What did you find?” She didn’t bother asking where.
Without a sound, he opened his palm. A ring of dull metal rested on a stick, still muddy from the lake. Gran picked it up with incredible delicacy, sliding her glasses on with the other hand.
It wasn’t a stick.
It was a bone. My breath went inward even as my stomach dropped, recognizing the slender bone from a human finger. I’ve seen skeletons before. In my line of work, such things are inevitable. I took Wulfric’s hand and got closer to him. His shoulder was cold, and it wasn’t from the lake.
Gran looked at the ring without removing it, then turned the bone over twice, searching for something known only to her. After a thorough examination, she placed it back in Wulfric’s limp palm, closing his fingers with a maternal squeeze.
“Who is it?”
He didn’t seem to hear her, but his eyes went back to the ring. In a decisive move, he slid the bone free and set the ring down on the table where it winked with obscene possibility. Under the patina of age were markings, though I couldn’t discern what language it might be. I didn’t touch it, but looked back to him, waiting for an explanation.
“My sister.” Two words, a thousand years, and the world fell away in one second.
“Is it the inscription?” Gran asked, quiet with concern.
Wulfric only nodded, wiping a thumb across the metal to reveal runes of an archaic type. “Only one woman ever wore a ring like this, and she was left behind on our last voyage. I never saw her again. Until now.”
I lifted the ring, the dense metal cool in my hand. It was surprisingly heavy and smooth except for the unusual runes. They weren’t like any Viking language I’d ever seen before. “What does this mean?” I asked, pointing to the inscription.
He smiled, a bitter look of acceptance. “Skraelingsdottir. A joke between us, known only to me. And her.”
“The child of Indians. So there were more like you
, Wulfric?” Gran asked, understanding the meaning.
“Skraeling are. . . Indians?” I asked, though I may have heard the word in my studies. The Adirondacks were an old place, filled with many stories. Many graves, too.
“An old word for them, before we knew them to be different nations, and people. There were many trips between our worlds, and many children born after me. But she alone wore a ring which told of her pride in being related to me, a child of mixed blood. She alone had the courage to do so, for we could never truly be people of either world after she threw her lot in with me. We were unwanted. We were--flawed.” He sank further into the chair.
“Your mother was Huron?” Gran asked.
“Yes. My uncle took many voyages, all in secret. For decades he tried to hide this world, these mountains, but eventually there was one thing he could not hide,” Wulfric confirmed.
“The babies. Your uncle and his men took local wives, and had children. The children went back and forth with the ships, raised as Norsemen but never knowing where they were from. And then you became a vampire, and were trapped. Cut off from her, and your family, and everything,” Gran said, her eyes bright with the enormity of Wulfric’s reality. His lonely outpost had been far worse than I imagined. He was an orphan, left behind by two worlds, and saved only by his own lust for blood.
That was over now. I held his hand, feeling the strong pulse running through him, free of the vampire curse. I kissed his palm, and he didn’t resist. He was tired, heart heavy from the discovery. There was nowhere to go with this, and I couldn’t grasp what it all meant. Yet.
“What else did you find?” Gran asked. She was keen to find something about his dive and convinced he hadn’t revealed the whole truth.
“Why do you say that?” he asked, reflexively.
Gran placed her mug on the table, then fixed him with a searching look. “Wulfric, you are much older than me, but I’ve been lied to more often. No, don’t deny it, you’re not telling me a falsehood, but you’re not telling me everything, either.” She pointed to the grim reminder of his dive. “Your sister didn’t die from drowning. So, what else did you find down there in the murk?”
Halfway Drowned (Halfway Witchy Book 4) Page 5
