by Tessa Dawn
“Pretty much,” Napolean said, his tone betraying no humor. “Only it won’t be quite that pleasant.”
Saber chose to ignore the last half of that statement. “And by mess up, that means—”
“That means if you take the life of an innocent while feeding. If you threaten, or in any way harm, any member of the house of Jadon or the surrounding human population. If you commit any act of treason by consorting with the enemy, the house of Jaegar.”
“So, I can’t contact my only remaining brother, Diablo?”
“To what end?” Napolean asked. Before Saber could reply, he added, “Again, vampire; it’s as I said—I can feel you. I will know your motivations. So I suggest you proceed with caution.”
“And Vanya? My son?” Saber asked, not really wanting to hear the answer.
Napolean sighed deeply then. “I’m not your father, Saber. I’m not your conscience or your god. I can’t tell you how to go forward with regard to the personal matters of your life; and contrary to what you might believe, I don’t police the sons of Jadon. They aren’t perfect. They make choices; they make mistakes. And I let them. But in terms of the princess, I will say this: She has asked you to respect her will, her choice, and she has agreed to let you live your life, such as it may be. You will…honor her…as the priceless gift to the house of Jadon that she is. To me, that means respect. The how of it? That’s beyond my reach or my responsibility. You’re a grown male.”
Saber stared deep into the king’s eyes, searching for signs of what, he didn’t know, just wanting to somehow categorize this enigmatic vampire into a neat box that he could deal with: friend, enemy, oppressor…opportunity? The world was so mystifying now. So hard to understand and predict.
To navigate.
“All right,” Saber finally replied, not knowing what else there was to say. “I guess we’ll see what happens then.” With that, he took a deep breath, turned on his heel, and began to stroll out into the endless night.
“Saber,” the king called after him.
Saber took a deep breath and slowly turned around. “Yeah?”
“Here.” The king tossed two small leather objects in Saber’s direction, and catching them both easily, Saber glanced down to survey the articles. The first was a beige leather wallet. Opening it, he thumbed through a host of crisp one-hundred-dollar bills, the sum appearing at first glance to be about two thousand dollars. Beneath the bills, tucked into the stiff, horizontal pouches, were two remaining items: a driver’s license and a business card, the latter bearing information about the Dark Moon Vale Bank.
“The cash should be enough to get you started,” Napolean explained. “As for the license, I assume you can drive?”
Saber smirked. “Yeah, I can drive.” He smiled despite himself then. “But I didn’t think you guys would be into the fake ID business.”
Napolean waved his hand in frank dismissal, if not slight derision. “Human customs grow tedious, but we do live among them. So yes, we do what we must to remain concealed and placate the locals. As for the bank,” he added, “it’s a similar front. It’s owned, at least on paper, by one of our loyal human families. They know who we are…and what we are…and they would never betray us. Once you are on your feet, anything you need may be taken care of there: credit cards, various accounts, whatever you feel like you need.”
Saber rubbed his brow with his thumb and forefinger. He had no idea what this meant—was he expected to get a human job? To take out a loan when the cash was gone? It made no difference: In eight hundred years, Saber had mastered more trades and skills than he could count. If all else failed, he could always create gemstones by harnessing his emotions and infusing them into the local rocks. A handful of diamonds produced a lot of human cash. “Cool,” Saber replied casually, “and this?” He held up the small leather pouch, bound at the tip with what appeared to be a very old, if not ancient, leather strap.
Napolean took an intimidating step forward then, his long, black-and-silver hair swaying in what was almost an otherworldly radiance behind him. Without aplomb, he placed both hands on Saber’s biceps, each one, just below the vampire’s shoulders. “If you had remained in the house of Jadon, your father would have brought you before me for your naming ceremony. At that time, I would have accepted your name before the gods, acknowledged Serpens as your deity, recorded your ties in the annals of our people, and welcomed you into the house of Jadon. I would have also taken your blood in a more—how shall I say?—ceremonial fashion than the way it was done in that cell. However, none of that had a chance to occur; and I make no false assumptions that you have any desire to take your once-rightful place among us now.” He sighed regretfully. “Or that you actually have a rightful place among us now. Much of that remains to be seen. However, I would have also given that pouch to your father in private, and upon turning twenty-one years old, graduating from the local academy, your father would have given it back to you at your formal induction ceremony. That opportunity is seven hundred and eighty years overdue.”
Saber looked down at the age-worn pouch, not at all sure that he wanted to view its contents. “What’s in it?”
Napolean’s eyes narrowed, and his jaw turned paradoxically soft yet stern at the same time. “It contains the signet ring bearing the crest of the house of Jadon on it, the one our males wear on the fourth finger of their right hands.”
Saber practically recoiled.
He took an involuntary step back as if the king had suddenly burned him, and simply glared at the being in front of him. He opened his mouth to protest, then just as quickly closed it, at a complete loss for words. “Why…” he finally uttered.
Napolean appeared undaunted, as if he had expected the reaction. “Because it is—or at least it once was—your birthright.” He held up his hand to halt any further protest. “But don’t get it twisted, son; it isn’t a gift. When our males slip the Crest Ring on their fingers, they also kneel before the whole of the house of Jadon; they slice their left wrist in a symbolic gesture, offering their blood as a sacrifice to the people; and they pledge their loyalty, protection, and service to not only their Sovereign but to our continued existence as a species. It a great honor, but an even larger responsibility.”
Saber didn’t know what to say. He felt the right corner of his lip turn up in his signature scowl, but he couldn’t contain it. Was the king kidding?
“I didn’t give you that pouch, that ring, so you could casually slip it on your finger when or if it suits you.” His set his jaw in a stern line. “I gave it to you to carry around, to feel the weight of it both literally and figuratively. To know that it is there, at least in potential, should you one day choose to be more than you are today.”
Saber thought about the sacred customs of the house of Jaegar, the house he had grown up in, the formal induction ceremony where the males ultimately pledged their undying hearts—first, last, and only—to the house of their rebirth, to the royal Prince Jaegar, to all his descendants, and to the dark lords who granted them life. Saber had made that pledge a very long time ago, and he felt like he was going to be sick. His head was spinning. The ground was shifting subtly beneath him, making him dizzy. It was all too much to take in, to even comprehend, let alone consider.
Not sure whether he should toss the pouch to the ground and risk the king’s wrath or offer some poignant words of recognition, he slipped the pouch into his jeans’ front pocket, instead, not bothering to even look at it.
At least not then.
Napolean nodded, and then he stretched out his right hand, indicating the wooded expanse before them, as if he were Moses himself signifying the Red Sea. “Your future awaits you, Saber. You may choose to live or die as you will. And as long as you keep our laws, I will not interfere by making that choice for you.” He bowed his head in silent reflection then. “I hope you find peace.”
Saber looked off into the endless distance, at the rocky crevices and looming mountain peaks of the Dark Moon Forest, the
endless groupings of junipers and pines, standing in utter indifference as they dotted the landscape. He glanced toward the rising hills and hidden caverns that were well beyond his sight: So, this was it then.
His future.
Bowing his head in a gesture of retreat more than respect, he slipped away into the night.
twenty-one
Six weeks later
Vanya Demir pushed the sleek, ultra-modern stroller under the shade of a narrow-leaf cottonwood tree, applied the foot brake, and closed the sun shade to provide the infant with some protection from the ever-seeking rays of the sun. “Now stay put,” she whispered lovingly to the cooing, wriggling child lying inside the mesh cradle.
“And just where do you think he might go?” Ciopori asked, laughing. She set her own seven-month-old son down on a large, quilted blanket beneath the shade of the same tree, laid out a bright assortment of toys for him to play with, and peered inside the stroller. “My gosh, he is a handsome somebody, is he not?”
Vanya smiled proudly. “Handsome and very alert already. I think he wants to see the entire world in a day.”
Ciopori positively beamed. She bent over and placed a gushing kiss on her nephew’s forehead, then found a place on the blanket where she stretched out her legs and kicked off her sandals. “Warm weather for April,” she commented, sighing.
“It is,” Vanya agreed. “We were lucky to be gifted with such a beautiful day to spend outside.”
“Indeed,” Ciopori said. “It’s rare this early in spring.”
Finding her own place on the blanket beside Ciopori, Vanya threw back her head and stared at the glorious blue sky, soaking up the luxurious rays of the Colorado sunshine. “Ahh,” she exhaled, “heavenly.” Without realizing she was doing it, she scanned her surroundings, surveying the landscape to the left and then the right, peering beyond a thick, nearby grove of fir trees, casting an eye over the peaks of neighboring hilltops, and checking beside each adjacent boulder, before settling into a more comfortable position.
Ciopori was perceptive as always. “What are you looking for, sister?”
“Hmm?” Vanya asked.
“You check your surroundings so diligently. Are you still afraid you might run into…a certain male vampire?”
Vanya frowned. She tucked an errant lock of hair, one that had somehow come loose from her thick, uniform braid, behind her ear and shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.” She groaned. “I swear, sometimes I feel like he’s watching me, like he’s lurking beyond every bush and tree, just waiting to pounce. I don’t know. I must be paranoid.”
“So, you have heard nothing at all from him then?”
“Nothing,” Vanya said insistently. “He has honored my request so far…faithfully.”
“That’s good,” Ciopori said. When Vanya didn’t respond immediately, her voice rose in question. “That is good, right, sister?”
Vanya gave Ciopori a sideways glance. “Of course. Of course. I’m just a little surprised, that’s all.”
Just then, Nikolai reached beyond the outer edge of the blanket, scooped up a large pine cone along with a fistful of dirt, and was just about to stuff it in his mouth when Ciopori snatched it away and tossed it aside. “No, Niko. We do not eat pine cones. Or dirt.” She brushed off his hands and handed him an intricate, brightly colored block-puzzle instead, and the child immediately set about the task of putting the pieces together. “Well, I for one am relieved. Like you, I didn’t expect him to honor your request, but I must say that I’m grateful he has.” She leaned forward and tapped on the broad trunk of the nearest tree. “Knock on wood.”
Vanya nodded. “Yes, knock on wood.” She saw a large black ant crawling on the blanket, making its way swiftly toward Nikolai, and she gently flicked it away. “You know…” She spoke in a whisper, not at all certain why she felt the need to lower her voice. “I hear he’s living in a cave…like an animal.”
Ciopori frowned. “You hear? From whom?”
Vanya shrugged. “Nachari may have mentioned something, once or twice, maybe Ramsey.”
Ciopori shook her head in dismay, her long raven hair swaying from the motion. “Honestly, I wish they would just keep these things to themselves. You don’t need to hear about…that vampire.” She breathed a heavy sigh. “You know what I’ll do? I’ll speak to Marquis about it. I’m sure, after a word from him, they will stop telling you—”
“No,” Vanya interrupted in a rush. “That’s not necessary.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s truly not necessary, sister. I mean, they don’t bring me information that often, and in reality it’s…well, they only tell me when I ask.”
Ciopori looked away. “Oh…”
Vanya raised her eyebrows. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“What?”
“Oh.”
Ciopori frowned defensively. “I don’t know, just oh. Oh, I didn’t realize you still inquired about him, that’s all.”
Vanya spun around to face her sister. “Well, of course I inquire!” Catching the rising ire in her voice, she sought to soften her tone. “I mean, not about Saber, but about…his whereabouts and such. I…I don’t want to be caught off guard by him again. That’s all. It certainly isn’t as if I care. About him.” She huffed with annoyance. “Most certainly not.”
Ciopori sat forward, cocked her head to the side, and stared at her younger sister like she had pie on her face.
“What are you looking at?” Vanya asked.
Ciopori’s nose twitched almost imperceptibly. “I’m not sure. You tell me.”
Vanya rolled her eyes playfully, or at least she hoped it appeared playful. “Tell you what, sister?”
“Tell me what you’re thinking, really thinking, about Saber.”
“I’m not really thinking anything.” She glanced at the stroller and listened for any sign that Lucien was growing fitful. Satisfied that he was still resting peacefully, perhaps staring at his mobile, perhaps even falling asleep, she said, “Perchance I’m just thinking that it’s going to be quite a challenge to raise this little one properly on my own; you know, without a male influence. Or a father.”
Ciopori scrunched up her regal face. “You have Marquis, Nathaniel, Nachari, and Kagen. Heck, you have Napolean if you want his assistance…plus Ramsey, Santos, Saxson, and Julien…not to mention Rafael, his—”
“Dear lords,” Vanya interrupted. “Please tell me you do not intend to name every male in the house of Jadon.”
“I will if I must,” Ciopori countered.
Vanya rolled her eyes blatantly then. “I know, sister. I do. I just meant that the whole situation is so…unusual. Unprecedented.”
“Agreed.” Ciopori patted Vanya’s hand to reassure her. “But you will get through it. You will.”
Vanya nodded. “Of course, I will.” She looked off into the distance. “It’s just surprising that Saber hasn’t…tried at all…don’t you think?”
Ciopori sat upright then. “Are you hoping that he will?”
“No!” Vanya waved her hand in emphasis. “No. I meant what I said, and that was my final word. Besides, who would want a fire-breathing dragon for a mate? Saber? Alexiares? The king of mean?” She shuddered. “He’s terrifying. Awful, really. Dear goddess of light, what that monster put me through…”
“Precisely,” Ciopori echoed.
“Yet…”
“Yet?”
“Yet things are not always so neatly black and white…in the universe, I mean.”
Ciopori held her tongue, but the expression on her face said it all: What are you talking about? And what part of this is gray?
Vanya searched for the right words. “I’m just pointing out that there are, there were, oddities, that’s all.”
“What sort of oddities?” Ciopori said, giving Vanya her full, undivided attention.
Vanya stared at the complex patterns in the quilt and absently traced the lines of one particularly beautiful design with her forefinger. “W
ell, it was more than just a little odd, the way he had such a complete meltdown that morning in Kagen’s clinic, during the conversion.” Her voice became thoughtful. “Quite odd, indeed.”
Ciopori shook her head, not exactly in dismissal, but not in agreement either. “You mean the morning following that horrific, agonizing night of your conversion? A conversion he was forced to attempt, I might add, only because he had previously gotten you pregnant against your will?” Despite her best attempt at diplomacy, she fumed. “Do you mean the morning he almost killed you, broke several of your ribs, and caused everyone who loves you to suffer unspeakably, believing you were as good as dead? Is that the oddity you speak of?”
Vanya bristled. “Well, technically, Saber didn’t actually break my ribs. The babies—”
“Panicked in reaction to their own pain and suffering! Tried to escape an unholy infusion of venom they were never prepared to withstand to begin with, and nearly clawed their way out of your body in a desperate attempt to escape. And yes, Saber was the cause of it all.”
“Of course he was,” Vanya said in frustration. “I just meant that it was strange, odd, the way he fell apart, the way he called on Serpens, as opposed to the deity’s dark twin, to save us. The way he offered to trade his life for ours…without hesitation.” She sat up straight then. “For a male who has never given a second thought to anyone’s well-being other than his own, it was quite an unexpected leap…don’t you think?”
“You were carrying his son,” Ciopori offered.
“Of course,” Vanya bit back. “And I was, what? Nothing more than a receptacle to house his offspring?”
Ciopori bit her bottom lip. “You said it—I didn’t.”
Vanya sighed. She needed to find a way to steer the conversation back to something light before it became any more contentious. “By the way,”—she smiled halfheartedly, trying to force some humor into her voice—“did I ever mention that Napolean’s fangs are positively brutal?” She rolled her eyes for effect. “Honestly, for a male who was trying to protect me, euthanize me, if one must be frank and speak the word, in a dire moment of desperation…Great Cygnus, I would rather take the broken ribs and agony, thank you.”
