by Caris Roane
Once again, Vojalie teared up, but she brought her mug to her lips.
“Is it something I said?”
Vojalie shook her head. “I gave birth three months ago, I’m nursing, and you remind me how much I lost when Andrea left. I’m just so overcome. She was very important to me.”
“I can see that she was.”
She felt dizzy suddenly as a new thought surfaced. “How old was my mother when she left Bergisson? The year she died, when I was eighteen, I asked her age, but she laughed and said, ‘twenty-nine’. It was her joke about never wanting to grow old.”
“Part of that statement was true. She would have been two-hundred-and-twenty-nine at that time. If she were alive today, she’d be ten years more.”
Samantha put a hand to her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut. There was just so much to take in and with Vojalie’s arrival, everything she’d been hearing had become a very long stream of jolts.
“So she was that old?”
“We’re long-lived.”
“So you are.”
“Samantha, I’m so grateful that Ethan thought to call me. You must have a thousand questions and I want you to know that I’m here for you, whatever you might need from me, anytime, anyplace. For your mother’s sake alone, I would make this offer, but I’d also extend it to anyone in your circumstances, who’s just found out she’s part fae. So, how did you find out? I take it something specific happened.”
Samantha drew in a deep breath and told her everything, from arriving at the prave, of seeing her classmate with Tom-the-Vampire, of the way the other vampires seemed to hover around her, then of Ethan’s dramatic arrival.
“So Tom was there?”
“Yes. He’s in jail for violating one of Ethan’s laws about feeding in public in the human world.”
Vojalie sipped her tea again. “Oh, Tom, yes, he’s a hopeless sort.” Glancing at Samantha over the rim of her mug, she added, “But Ethan’s formidable-looking, isn’t he?”
Samantha’s thoughts shifted sideways as she recalled seeing Ethan for the first time. He’d moved with lethal grace, the stride of an athlete, of a man made for war, heavily muscled, his body toned for battle.
She’d never seen anyone like him before, vampire or human. “He’s very tall,” she said quietly.
“And way too handsome for his own good. Most of the mastyr vampires seem to be blessed in that way, but Ethan’s got that gorgeous smile of his. I swear he radiates sunlight when he’s truly amused.”
“That’s it.” Samantha laughed as she turned to Vojalie. “I’ve seen that expression. I know what you mean. He sort of lights up.”
She then related the events at Club Prave, how Ethan had caught her scent or felt her vibration or something, how he’d looked at her, the way she’d felt about him though she knew him only by reputation, that she’d connected with what he called his personal frequency, that her heart had become sluggish and he’d called her a blood rose.
She told her the rest as well, how Ethan had essentially protected her from Ry, insisting she have her freedom. “He asked me to come with him and I’m sure if I hadn’t heard the things Ry said, I would have stayed behind at my house. But it seemed foolish not to come. Besides, I knew he’d stay outside my house all night if I didn’t. Ry was determined to have me.”
“I can understand why Mastyr Ry might have felt that way, though of course I don’t approve. Personal freedom is very important here in Bergisson just as it is in your world. But the mastyrs truly suffer.” Vojalie then spoke of the blood-starvation that all the mastyrs experienced. “It has something to do with the natural level of power each mastyr carries, including Ry, that it must use up some essential element that the average woman can’t replace. I saw the change in Gerrod immediately, once he began feeding from Abigail, like he’d been taking vitamin shots round the clock.”
Samantha drew in a long, deep breath. “But I didn’t ask for this.”
At that, Vojalie chuckled. “Get in line. Most of the time, I’m content with my lot but there are days I just wish someone else could do what I do.”
“And what do you do?”
“I’m leader of the fae community in all Nine Realms and I sit on the Sidhe Council. Every significant problem relating to our fae-folk comes to me for both judgment and resolution. Some of the problems are simple and relate to an improper balance of spells, potions, and herbal concoctions. Others are much more difficult, like the interpretation of visions that relate to the Invictus. You do know about the Invictus.”
“A little.”
Vojalie sipped again. “Well, that’s a conversation for another time. Ah, here is my husband, Davido, and our newest addition, baby Bernice.” Smiling, she called out, “Davido, come meet Andrea’s daughter, Samantha.”
“Ah, my love, nothing would please me more. Dear, sweet, troubled Andrea.” He drew close, the troll infant slumbering in his arms, a very small bundle against his chest. He wore blue plaid flannel. “How do you do, Samantha of Shreveport. I see you’re admiring my shirt. I must look like an undersized lumberjack.”
“Yes, maybe.” Samantha grinned. There was something in Davido’s expression that put her at ease. He wasn’t a handsome troll, not even a little, though she knew that every realm species had a full range of what was considered handsome or beautiful all the way to homely. But something in the gleam in his eye drew her to him, a certain charisma.
She stood up, and bent her head to get a good look at the baby, just three-months-old.
“Would you like to hold her?”
Samantha drew in a sharp breath and held out her arms. Davido transferred the swaddled infant as though giving her the greatest gift on earth, or in the realm. Maybe he was. Nothing was more precious than new life, all the promise encased in one being, human or otherwise.
She got lost in the joy of holding the child and to their credit, both parents let her be.
*** *** ***
Since it was almost time to head out for patrols, Ethan knew he would do better once he left his house and Samantha behind. But as he walked through the sitting room, he could hear his guests cooing, over baby Bernice presumably, from within the conservatory. He could hardly refuse to greet them.
The problem was, he saw faint spots at the edges of his vision. Sweet Goddess, the recent feeding had accomplished little more than to reduce the size and frequency of his stomach cramps.
He was fucking light-headed.
But as he reached the arched passage to the conservatory, he stood on the threshold and something in his heart started to ache. Vojalie and Davido both stood to either side of Samantha, but very close, staring down into their new baby’s face.
Samantha, holding Bernice, looked happy, much happier than at any time last night, but he’d noticed that infants often had that affect on females.
Right now, however, as a wave of nausea washed through him yet again, he wanted that to be his child, for Samantha to be wiping tears from her cheeks because of their infant, which of course made no sense at all. He hardly knew the woman, the daughter of Andrea who had betrayed him, as well as her kind, who could have prevented the tragedy at Sweet Gorge if she’d wanted to. Andrea had long-served Ethan’s Guard with visions of imminent Invictus attacks and she would have had a vision of the attack at Sweet Gorge. But instead of contacting him, or any of his men, she’d abandoned Bergisson for good.
And his family had died.
These thoughts at least served to anchor him, to remind him why it would be best to let Samantha return as quickly as possible to Shreveport. His history with Andrea alone, was enough warning to keep the connection to Samantha at bay.
And all he needed to do was gain some control over Ry and she could leave his house and go where she wanted without danger of being kidnapped by a realm madman.
“Hey,” he called out, straightening his shoulders. “I’m heading out. Just wanted to say good evening.”
He thought he’d pulled it off, laced his wor
ds and movements with a casual air. But all three turned to stare at him, the tenderness of each expression giving way to wide-eyed shock.
Davido apparently spoke for them all. “Ethan, my good man, what the hell has happened to you? You’re the shade of that Infidel, Dracula. By the Goddess’s pink nipples, when was the last time you fed?”
“Just an hour ago, maybe less. Angela stopped by.”
“Angela?” Samantha this time. She passed the infant to Vojalie. “Ethan, you had a doneuse here? Why didn’t you come to me? I think I have enough blood right now to feed an army.”
Ethan didn’t know which was worse, that she would have willingly fed him but he’d missed the opportunity or the image of seeing her offer up her vein to an entire hoard of vampires.
He lost it. “Because it wasn’t fucking appropriate, that’s why?” His voice boomed through the conservatory. “You’re my guest, not a donor. And, it doesn’t matter. I’m fine.”
As the scent of her drifted over to him, his mouth filled with saliva and it was all he could do not to groan long and loud. At the same time, probably because he’d been shouting, the baby started to cry.
Vojalie must have said something, because Davido put his feet in motion, hurried in his quick troll-like way, and caught Ethan’s arm. He tugged him in the direction of the doorway. “Of course you’re right. I spoke foolishly. Let’s leave the women-folk with the baby. You’re fine. You’re fine. I can see that now. I take it you’re off on patrol?”
“Yes.” He wanted to turn back and apologize but Davido was doing for him what the social niceties would not allow him to do on his own; to make a much needed exit.
He let his friend usher him from the conservatory and out into the hall.
“Now that we’re out of earshot of the ladies, let me be frank: You look bad, Ethan. I didn’t want to alarm my wife or the lovely Samantha, but you’re black-and-blue beneath your eyes and your skin is the color of goat’s milk. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine or I will be once I get away from this latest nightmare. Shit, a blood rose. I was holding my own but her presence has made everything worse.”
“Right, right. I’m sure you’ll feel more fit when you leave the house. I can see how she must be the problem.”
Davido took him all the way to the foyer and even opened the massive front door for him. “Goddess speed.”
“And you.” Then Ethan flew straight up into the air and didn’t look back. The farther he got away from his house, and Samantha, the better he felt. The nausea passed and his stomach eased up. Sort of.
He met up with Finn near the Erishold Grotto, not far from the Fae Guildhall, but the look on his second-in-command’s face told him the same story that Davido’s had.
“I’m fine, damnit, now give me your report.”
Chapter Four
“The Guildhall is very beautiful.” Samantha lifted her gaze the entire height of the round, domed building. A narrower dome on top of the roof supported a golden minaret, on the pinnacle of which was the statue of a winged woman, an ancient mythical faery. “The lines of this building are unlike anything I’ve seen in my world, I mean the human world, except maybe Catalan architecture.”
Vojalie had brought her to the fairgrounds and had already introduced her to a number of fae. What surprised Samantha the most was how everyone knew her mother, or of her, and was sorry to hear of her passing.
Sweeping a hand to encompass the front door, Vojalie said, “I think generally we prefer the arc, whether the circle, dome or archway. It’s everywhere in our fae society. There’s something very complete about it and I especially like the term ‘full circle’.”
“You’re thinking of me and my mother.”
“Maybe. I’m also hoping that now that you’re here you’ll be able to solve the riddle about why she left. I’ve never completely understood.”
“I’m hoping so as well.” She turned to survey the grounds and was astonished all over again that they looked just as they had in her earlier vision. Dozens of colorful tents bearing flags on top rippled in the light, cool breeze, realm-folk moved about, haggling enthusiastically over prices, in the distance a fiddle and a flute played, and of course the smell of food was everywhere, constantly changing from booth to booth.
Because the vision looked just like this, she had every reason to believe that at some point the rest of the images would start unfolding as well, which kept Samantha’s nerves on edge. When she’d shared her fears with Vojalie, that she was now living out the vision she’d foreseen, the woman had patted her shoulder reassuringly and said, “Trust me in this one thing: When the time comes, you will know exactly what needs to be done. It’s the true gift of the vision, that the foreknowledge prepares the soul for future action. Trust in that.”
The words comforted Samantha, because they gave her a logical solution to what was essentially a mystical situation. She just had to relax and let events unfold.
Vojalie had fed Bernice in a secluded corner of the park, a blanket draped over her shoulder, then Davido had taken her back to Ethan’s house, in a taxi, where she would sleep for a couple of hours. Not all realm-folk could make use of levitated flight like Ethan and his powerful Guard.
A fae family approached Vojalie shyly, each bowing just a little, a very old, very formal greeting. Vojalie took the deference in stride then put her hand on the top of the children’s heads, one after the other, which made them smile.
It occurred to Samantha that Vojalie might actually be doing something to them, so she asked.
Vojalie laughed. “It’s a little trick, a soft jolt of vibration that sort of tickles. We call it a blessing and the children seem to love it.”
“I’ll bet they feel special.”
Vojalie met and held her gaze. “I think so. I hope so. I don’t think there’s anything so important to a child as feeling special. And what of you? Did you feel that way growing up?”
Samantha wondered at the nature of the question. It seemed oddly personal, probing. “Yes, I did. Both my parents as well as my grandmother, gave me a lot of attention and love, but it was hard losing them all in the space of the past few years. At times, impossible.”
“You have no other family?”
“No.”
“So, in that sense, you could make a life for yourself here, in Bergisson, if you wanted to?”
She couldn’t take the question in because the implications were so vast: Bergisson, realm-folk, her faeness, and always, Ethan and being a blood rose. “There are no impediments, just what’s in my heart.”
At that, Vojalie chuckled.
“What?”
“There is no impediment so great as what is in one’s heart.” She laughed again.
Samantha might have been irritated by the woman’s amusement, but she had gained a sense of Vojalie that she carried no malice within her spirit, no jealousy, no mean-spiritedness. And what she’d said was true because if it wasn’t in Samantha’s heart to make a place for herself in Ethan’s world, then nothing could move her here, not a dozen mastyrs, not a powerful fae, nothing.
The breeze picked up, coming from the south, driving toward the distant hills in the north, covered in large beech trees that shimmered against the dark night sky. She realized that her fae vision had continued to improve except for one small thing. “Am I seeing something red in the woods to the north?”
“What?” The sharpness of Vojalie’s tone filled Samantha with sudden dread. “Oh, God, you’re right. The Invictus are coming.”
A moment later, the alarms sounded and realm-folk began gathering up children and heading straight for the Guildhall. “Come. We have an extensive underground system for just such an emergency.”
Samantha realized this was just more of her vision unfolding as she continued to stare toward the trees.
Vojalie’s phone rang. “No, my love. We’re at the Guildhall. I’ll be perfectly safe as you well know and yes, Samantha is with me.” She tapped her pho
ne, then returned it to the pocket of her tunic. “We should go.”
But Samantha felt it now, or rather him. This was where her vision had picked up and she could feel the Mastyr of Bergisson’s blood-hunger and the dire extent of his weakness.
Which meant that she had a very difficult decision to make.
“I have to stay.”
“Do what you must.” Then Vojalie was gone.
* * * * * * * * *
Because of Samantha’s vision, Ethan already had a large portion of his Guard at the fairgrounds, waiting near the eastern ridge, keeping a low profile among the trees, but he was in bad shape. Spots continued to move in and out of his vision and he fought an almost constant dizziness now. He knew he should turn the battle over to Finn, but the sight of the red wind had boosted his power and he’d flown down the eastern slopes at the front of his troops, his hand raised high, a war-cry in his throat.
He loathed the Invictus, those terrible, powerful wraith-based pairs that forged fighting units to challenge his men like nothing else could.
Through decades of practice, his men spread out in a long line across the grassy portion of the fairgrounds, setting up a defense between the beech-wood and all the colorful tents. Together his Guard would construct a shared wall of battle energy that would keep the Invictus from crossing. But they’d fight each Guardsmen with weapons of steel as well as streams of energy. If they could break through the powerful shield, they could attack the innocent at the Guildhall.
Something had to change in the way his Guard fought the Invictus . Ethan knew he needed a new mode of attack, maybe even a secondary attack strategy, something with grit, that personal touch lost with the development of the frequency support shields.
Though the shields served to keep the Invictus away from whatever population was nearby, something had been lost over the centuries in coming to terms with an enemy that simply never went away.
