"Bullshit," she says, her eyes still glued to the figurine. "Johann Veran, a workman, found it."
"My dear, human history is painfully easy to tweak. Your kind has such short memories and such greedy hearts. Enough money in the right hands, and anything you want can be reported as the truth. You can pick it up if you'd like," I say, knowing she's dying to.
She carefully removes it from its pedestal, cradling it carefully in her hands. Her eyes close, and a hum of magic pulses around her, the way it did when she touched the Mother Tree. Interesting. When she opens her eyes, the mistrust is gone, and a new accusation forms. With a sigh of regret, she places the figurine down. "It belongs in a museum," she says with judgment. But there's a trace of longing still there.
"Says who?" I ask, as we continue down the hall. "Who gets to decide what artifacts are meant for public display? Who chooses what pieces of history get ripped from their roots and tossed into museums? It smacks of white privilege, and usually only benefits western countries, leaving those places where art and artifacts are torn from none the better. It's colonialism at its finest, masked as service to the public." To be fair, I'm not anti-museum, but I have seen the abuses perpetrated by the system enough that I do not feel the least bit of guilt keeping pieces that wouldn't have been found otherwise.
She shakes her head, making no reply.
It's just as well, as we have arrived at her room. I open the door and gesture for her to enter. "Help yourself to anything you need. A servant will be here soon to help you get settled. There's a bath ready for you, and clean clothes when you're done."
The fire is crackling in the hearth, and I made sure that every detail of her room would be perfect. The softest sheets and blankets, the plushest pillows, a variety of clothing styles in her size, oils, dried flowers and scented soaps at her disposal. No need left unattended.
She looks around the room and then frowns. "How did you know I would be coming here?"
"I assumed you would need somewhere to refresh after you healed in the grove, so I sent my staff ahead to prepare your room."
"I noticed there are no mirrors in here, or anywhere else in the palace."
"Indeed. Mirrors are forbidden for security reasons," I say.
"You're going to need to give more of an explanation than that," she says. "Is it some kind of bad luck mojo or?"
"It's how we traveled here from your world," I say. "For vampires, mirrors are portals. Doorways. It's why we can't see ourselves in them."
Her jaw drops. "Really? How fascinating."
A knock at the door interrupts us as an older Fae walks in carrying towels. "Forgive me, my Lord, but I wanted to make sure the towels were warmed before bringing them up."
I smile. "Helda, this is Dr. Alex Stone. She will be our guest for as long as she's willing to stay. Dr. Stone, this is Helda, one of my most faithful servants."
Dr. Stone frowns, then holds out her hand. "Helda, you can call me Alex."
Helda smiles, using her free hand to shake Alex's. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear. You're not the usual type the prince brings home."
I cough and glare at Helda, but she gives no mind to me, and Alex laughs. It's the first time I think I've seen her really laugh, and it does something to me that I don't want to think too hard about just now.
Helda notices, though, as she tends to notice everything, and she raises an eyebrow. "I'll leave you two alone. Just ring the bell if you need anything, dear. I'll be up here in a flash. This is a big place, and folks have been known to get lost in the halls, so don't hesitate to call me."
"Thank you, Helda. I appreciate it."
Helda leaves the towels on the bed and walks out, closing the door behind her.
"Is she a slave or a paid servant?" Alex asks directly, as soon as Helda is gone.
"Paid servant. My brother and sister-in-law outlawed slavery over 100 years ago."
She exhales in relief. "Good."
I study the woman before me curiously. "You seem more impressed with my artifacts than with servants and plush extravagance."
"Is there a question in there?" she asks.
"It's implied," I say dryly.
"I'm used to wealth," she says. "It's just another kind of prison, a gilded cage, if you let it matter too much."
"May I ask how an archaeologist has acquired so much wealth?"
She sighs, as if tired of answering this question. "I've made my own share of money with books and such. But most of it is from my parents. My father was Robert Alexander."
And then it all clicks. "The famous movie star? He and his wife, the archeologist Dr. Sandra Stone, were murdered in their mansion nearly—"
"Fifteen years ago," she finishes, her face pale, her blue eyes fierce. "The only witness was their twelve-year-old daughter, who was left alive. She told the authorities what happened, that a monster drained her parent's blood and left them for dead, but no one believed her. 'A robbery gone bad,' they all said. Only nothing was stolen. Because the vampire didn't find what he was looking for. Or he did, and it was my parents."
No wonder she hates my kind. This might be harder than I initially thought. But the stakes are too high to give up. She must see reason, even if it's painful. And maybe, just maybe, there's a way I can help sweeten the pot for her. But that's a conversation for after she's refreshed.
"I'm sorry," I say, though the words are entirely inadequate. "I can't imagine what that must have been like for you."
"No," she says, crosses her arms again, a classic defensive posture. "You can't."
She's going to be a hard shell to crack, but the fate of all the worlds might be at stake, so this isn't something I can fail at. "I'll leave you to bathe. When you're ready, call for Helda, and she'll bring you to the dining room to eat."
She nods and I leave her, closing the door after me.
I head to my personal quarters—a large wing of the palace that contains my study, bedroom and private living quarters— the fatigue of the last few days weighing on me. When traveling to a new dig, I can't use a mirror. I can only use one upon leaving, when I know where I'm going. I do have hidden mirrors throughout the world, but eventually, I'm always required to travel over the desert for at least a few days. And I can't face the human sun. It makes this line of work challenging. And dangerous. But so rewarding I wouldn't dream of giving it up. Still, I need nourishment to replenish my strength for what is to come.
I ring a bell and within a few minutes, Helda arrives with a goblet. "This is fresh from Earth," she says, handing it to me.
I nod, thanking her. Before she leaves, she pauses at the door. "She's special, that one."
I don't have to ask who she's speaking of. "I know."
"Protect her."
Helda leaves before I can reply that I'm trying my best to do just that.
I take a long drink of the crimson liquid, quenching my thirst. At the queen's insistence, we've set up a humane trading system with our contacts on Earth. They find blood donors who are paid generously for their sacrifice. Blood is sent to us. We send money and unique goods only found in this world. No humans are harmed in the feeding and caring of the local vampires. Each vampire is allocated enough free blood to survive, with a thriving market if one wants to buy more. Everyone is happy.
Well, they should be.
But vampires, like humans, were not built to enjoy happiness for long. Our kind will always find something to create conflict over.
And with the king still missing, and the queen not quite herself from the recent curse cast on her by her own daughter, Inferna is in peril.
Losing Princess Aya hit this kingdom hard and hurt Avakiri, the Fae kingdom. Most assumed the princess would be the next Midnight Star, though that would be a long time coming, if ever, since Ari would have to die first.
My feelings for Arianna Spero have changed over the years. My desires for her have turned to brotherly affection, but my love for her is no less true. She is family, and her pain is my pain.
But I cannot save this kingdom. Asher will have to lead that venture. I'm more worried about saving the worlds.
I haven't shared my findings with my brothers, or with Ari. They are dealing with too much as it is.
But if my fears are confirmed, we are facing an even greater threat than the release of the Storm Spirit that tore holes in the fabric between worlds and destroyed parts of our kingdom and Avakiri.
Let's just hope that the illustrious Dr. Alex Stone clear herself of her prejudice long enough to help. Because all the lines of inquiry I track all lead back to her.
Alex Stone
I allow myself the indulgence of a steaming bath in a stone tub as I scrub weeks of travel off my body. I seem to have taken most of the dessert with me, and I'm happy to see the true color of my skin again as I emerge from the washroom, smelling of rose oil. My own clothes are not only filthy, but wrecked from water, sun and knife damage, so I search the wardrobe for something clean to wear as a freshly stoked fire blazes in the hearth near my bed.
I'm still having a hard time fathoming that I'm in a new world, in the castle of a prince. It's all a bit surreal. But I approach this like any other expedition. There's a new culture to study, new rules to learn… this is my job. This is what I've trained so many years for.
But first, I need to get dressed. I'm hoping to find jeans. Something comfortable. But all I see are beautiful silk gowns in a variety of colors. I guess they dress for dinner here. I sigh and choose the black floor-length gown accented with what look like tiny chains that give the gown a gothic touch. Seems fitting. There are no mirrors in which to check myself, which is hard to get used to, but I improvise with some water in a bowl. My hair is easy enough, being short and straight, and I don't have any makeup to worry up.
I slide on matching slippers that feel like walking on clouds, and then ring the bell for Helda.
She arrives faster than seems possible, given the size of this castle, and I wonder if she has supernatural powers of speed, or was waiting for me in the halls, knowing I'd need her. Either way, I'm impressed.
Her smile is genuine when she greets me. "The prince is looking forward to dining with you," she says, guiding me out of the room and down the halls.
"What's he like?" I ask, wondering if she'll give me an honest evaluation of her employer, but knowing enough to take her words with a grain of salt.
"Prince Dean is… " she pauses, thinking, as we pass door upon door and my mind wanders, wondering what secrets hide within the rooms. Probably just more bedrooms.
"He is an enigma," she says. "His charm and charisma are powerful, and thus he gets a certain reputation. But there is more to him than meets the eye. Give him a chance." She looks over at me, her Fae ears pointing through the buns on her head, her face unlined but with a quality to her eyes that make me think she's much older than she appears.
When we arrive at the dining room, Dean stands, dressed in black formal wear that suspiciously compliments my gown nicely. The table is decked out in a lavish spread of food, which is a bit obscene if all of that is just for the two of us. He pulls out a chair at the head of the table and gestures for me to join him.
When we are both seated, his eyes land on mine. "You look beautiful," he says.
"Thank you." Changing the subject, I admire the food. "I hope you plan on sharing this with your staff when we're done. This is a lot for just us."
"No worries. None of it will be wasted. Enjoy. You must be famished."
My stomach rumbles loudly as if on cue, but I do not turn away in embarrassment. It's perfectly normal to feel hunger after going so long without eating. "I guess I am," I say with a laugh, and I fill my plate with bits of everything.
We eat in silence. Partly because I'm too busy consuming everything in sight to carry on a conversation. Partly because I don't know what to say.
He's a perfect gentleman, and doesn't press me with questions or conversation until the food is removed and we are left with after dinner cocktails. "There's something I'd like to show you, if you'll join me?" he asks, standing.
I nod and follow him, the goblet of glowing blue liquor in my hand. I sniff it and find that it smells like cotton candy. My mouth waters, but I wait to taste it, unsure of how it will make me feel.
All thoughts of the drink are forgotten when we step into a room that you wouldn't even know is there at first glance. We enter through a tapestry hanging on the wall to find a room covered in shelves lining every wall filled with ancient books and scrolls and even more ancient artifacts from around the world. There's not a speck of dust anywhere, which tells me this is a room he spends a lot of time in and cares for.
In one corner is a large desk with parchment, an inkwell and a feather pen covering it. In the center of the room are two chairs upholstered in dark brown suede facing a matching love seat with a fireplace to the right. The walls are tall, spanning three stories, with walkways at each level and ladders on rollers positioned throughout.
A guard stands at attention, blending into the shadows near the entrance, startling me as I turn and notice him.
He's a young man, or looks it. It's impossible to tell with vampires I suppose. But as I near him his eyes widen and his nostrils flare. My skin tingles, but I am pulled from his attention by the wealth of history stacked around me. "This is magnificent," I say, my eyes wide as I take it all in.
"I'm glad you like it."
He sits in the loveseat and watches me with a bemused expression as I explore the wonders that exist in this room. I could write a hundred dissertations on just one shelf of his collections. It boggles the mind. "You have pieces here that are only rumored to exist. They should be in museums," I reiterate, my former resentment stirring up again. It's not that he doesn't have a point, but most museums do their best to avoid the unethical collection of pieces and turn over things they discover have been unlawfully obtained. They serve to educate and inform the public about our history and other cultures. They are important, even if flawed.
He just smirks and sips from his drink.
When I've filled my head with everything I can, I sit across from him in one of the chairs, placing my drink next to me on a table. "So what now?" I ask.
"Cutting to the chase, I see," he says with a grin that exposes his dimples and makes his blue eyes light up. My god the man really is the most stunning creature I've ever seen.
I force myself to look away, to break eye contact before he sucks me into a spell I can't escape from. I notice my untouched drink with relief and reach for it, avoiding Dean and his inescapable pull. I take a long swig of it, delighting in the play of flavors dancing on my tongue, as an icy hot sensation coats my throat and stomach and settles into my blood and bones, making everything feel more relaxed.
"I'm not on holiday," I remind him, composing myself. "I'm on a job. You said we could help each other. What did you have in mind?"
He nods, uncrossing his legs, and stands. "Very well. Let me show you." He walks across the room to his desk and reaches into a space that looks empty. There's nothing there, but his hand lands on something that he pulls out. As he does, a secret drawer appears.
"Neat trick," I say, trying to suss out the magic behind this.
He nods his head. "An easy way to keep secrets hidden."
"And yet I now know your secret," I say.
"You are one of my secrets," he says, holding eyes with me until I feel the weight of his gaze in my marrow. My pulse increases and skin flushes. A tingle of electricity runs up my spine and my head fills with thoughts of him. Of me. Of the two of us entangled under the moonlight, bodies joining together in ecstasy. This time he breaks the connection first, releasing me to breathe again.
I suck in air, crossing my arms over my chest and shivering at how intense that experience was. I find my voice, but it feels far away and pinched. "I don't understand."
He pulls a black velvet bag out of the hidden drawer and walks back, gesturing for me to join him on the lovese
at.
I tip my goblet to my lips and drain the remnants of the blue liquid before sitting next to him. Our thighs brush together and a thrill of pleasure rushes up my leg, stealing my breath once again.
My visceral response to him makes me angry as it overlaps with my memories of the night my parents died. Maybe it's unreasonable. Maybe I need to have an open mind. But the trauma lives in my blood and in my gut and I can't make it disappear with wishful thinking or noble intent, so I sit with both emotions warring within me as he uses his long, elegant fingers to pull something out of the velvet bag.
I gasp when I see what he holds in his hand. A gently curved cream white stone that pulses with a preternatural light. He places it in my hand, and if there had been any doubts at all about its authenticity, they are gone.
I feel into the artifact, seeing its history, seeing how it would fit together perfectly with the piece I found in Israel and subsequently lost to my traitorous partner. "How do you have this?" I ask.
"It came into my possession about twenty years ago. A piece of the Fallen Star of Nirandel. Do you know the legend?"
I shake my head, transfixed. I never knew the name. Only heard the rumors of its power and that important men wanted it found. I've had my own reasons for hunting these pieces.
"Nirandel is one of the Nine Worlds, some say it's the original world of the dragons, the birthplace of the Ancient Ones who went on to create the other eight worlds and all who dwell upon them. In Nirandel, their stars are not like the stars of earth. They are special, and they almost never fall. When they fall on their own world, they are harvested with great care and made into sacred objects of power that are protected and used only by those who have the deepest respect for the power they wield. This is the first star to have fallen, at least in part, onto earth, and no one knows why. Every Star of Nirandel that falls is unique and possess its own special properties. This one is an ancient star, but has only been seen or talked about relatively recently. Many speculate as to what its powers are, but none know for certain. Not until the star is reformed with all its pieces."
Vampire Girl 7: Fallen Star Page 4
