by K. A. M'Lady
Wolf-man paused before me in mid-strike, his intent clearly etched on his face. I could almost smell his desire to bury his claws in my belly and rip my insides out so he could feast. But something had made him stop just inches from me.
He stood with his face partially shifted, his muzzle scenting the air around me. As he looked at me, hunger and death warring with each other, I could see my reflection in the darkness of his eyes.
A halo of silver surrounded me; the perfect glow of dust clinging to the particles of air that surrounded me as I knelt in pain. It covered my body in a sparkling sheen and as I slowly stood, Pixie Dust wafted through the currents of air in my wake.
All the wolves ceased their battle, including Blaen. As I moved towards Kieran their eyes followed me, each one scenting the air, caught in the spell of the moon’s glowing power.
“We must leave here. Now!” I said to Kieran as I reached him, my voice hushed and distant as it echoed in my head. My legs were unsteady, and I could feel my back bleeding heavily, dripping down the waist of my pants.
“What have you done to them?” he asked, staring in wonder at the wolves that seemed spellbound in my wake.
“‘Tis but a bit Pixie magic,” I said with a small crooked smile. “I’m tired, Kieran,” I said with a sigh as I stepped past him, allowing him to see the deep wounds in my back. “I think it’s time to go. And fight another day.”
Kieran looked at me for a moment, his thoughts closed to me before nodding his agreement. “Mercy, gather our wolves. We will abide Lady Justice’s wisdom this night.”
And as silent as a shadow on the dark side of the moon, we left Blaen and his wolves in the great hall covered in Pixie Dust.
We did make sure to leave a small token from Mercy. Call it a gift with pain. She gleefully used Wielder to cut off a testicle of each of her transgressors. And because the blade was heated with a bit of Pixie power, and they were burned off with a silver blade, they’d never grow them back when they tried to shift.
Vengeance, my name is Justice. And Mercy’s reckoning only deals in pain.
Truth to tell, just being here,
Housed alone, housed together,
Adds up to its own reward:
Concentration, stealthy art.
From Pangur Bán, 9th century Irish Poem
Anonymous--Translated from the Irish by Seamus Heaney
Chapter Ten
Well, the good news was that nobody else died. And the bad news was that none of the bad guys died, either. Oh, there was plenty of blood. Practically a stream’s worth, if you pooled it all together. And of course, there was the flesh, wounds that would take some serious time to heal. Mine included. My back was one hard ache as I made my way to the parking lot.
“We need to hurry. I don’t know how long they’ll stay in Pixie mode,” I said as I dug my keys out of my pants pocket, cringing with each petty movement. Thank the Prophets I hadn’t lost the damned keys through all of this shit.
As we reached my Chevy pickup, I realized I had about twenty-plus creatures following in my wake. And I didn’t have a clue as to where the hell they were all going to go. For one thing, the truck wasn’t that big.
“Mercy, you will take half of our people with you to the Mound. Dragon and the others will come with Rihker and me,” Kieran said when I had finally dug my keys out and had gotten my door open.
I think my brain was shutting down, because for once I didn’t even begin to argue as Kieran came up behind me and took the keys from my hand. “I think that I should drive,” he said.
I just looked at him, perplexed, as I tried to process what he’d just said. The look on my face must have been amusing, because he actually smiled at me as he replied, “Yes, Rihker, Vampires do drive.”
He helped me into the cab and as I slid over, another guy let himself into the other side of the front seat. It was the tall guy from the cell, my mind blanking on his name. I still kept thinking that his golden-blond hair seemed familiar, but I just couldn’t place it. I guess it didn’t matter too much at the moment. We were finally going home. To my home. I’m sure Gimlit would be thrilled with all of the additional company.
Kieran watched the others leave in various vehicles in the parking lot before starting up my truck. “You must tell me where I am going, Rihker,” he said as he pulled out behind Mercy’s Jeep.
“Take Route Two to the One Seventy-three exit. From there, you go out by the State Park. There’s a dirt road just beyond the bypass on the right hand side. My property runs along the park,” I told him as I slumped between him and Mr. Impossibly Long Legs sitting next to me.
The guy didn’t say a word the whole time Kieran drove through the darkness, but his solid presence at my side was somehow reassuring. “What’s your name?” I finally asked when I couldn’t stand the silence in the cab any longer.
He turned and faced me, and I realized where I’d seen him before. Color rose up my face before I could stop it. I don’t know what the hell I was embarrassed about, it’s not like I had voluntarily allowed Kieran to siphon off my neck while he was bumping and grinding against me.
The man smiled at me, and his warm brown eyes lit up in understanding. He had the most perfect teeth I had ever seen. He sported a strong, square jaw, and nice high cheekbones, and he had that perfect, bronzed skin color. Yum.
“My name is Dragon.” The deep purr of his voice wrapped around me like a chenille blanket. He was the Wereleopard. I just knew it. No human had a voice as rich and earthy as this.
“Dragon is my paramour, Rihker. He will be staying with me,” Kieran said as he turned off onto the One Seventy-three exit. It wasn’t too long now, and we’d be home. I was ready for some serious first-aid, a hot shower and some clean clothes. Not to mention my own bed. Damn, but I was tired.
“So, what exactly is a paramour?” I asked, not too up on Vamp lingo and politics. “Is he your lover?”
Kieran smiled at me, his eyes growing dark as they traveled down the edge of my jaw before resting a moment on my lips. They continued down the curve of my neck, the swell of my breasts; I could feel my heart begin to increase in tempo. I could almost feel Kieran’s touch just grazing my flesh where his eyes had traveled.
He returned to the pulse in my neck and my heart rate increased. “Would you be jealous if he were?” he asked as his eyes briefly returned to mine before they swept back to watch the road.
I considered this for a moment. Both of them were extremely good-looking men: one light, the other dark; one with eyes the color of the warm earth, the other with eyes deep and intense that could all but melt your soul. “I think it would be a sad day for all womankind if you both only swung that way,” I said honestly.
Kieran gave a small laugh as he said, “Dragon is what you would call my human servant.”
“Yeah, only he’s about as human as I am,” I said as I turned to look at the servant in question. I highly doubted he did a whole lot of serving, other than as a wake-up snack. For one thing, the guy was huge. Took up his whole side of the front seat and part of the middle.
I could see the attraction. He was definitely nice eye candy. Said very little. I guess if you liked that sort of thing in a person, it would be okay. But that didn’t really tell me what he did for Kieran.
“He is my daytime eyes as well. When I need to be aware of things, Dragon knows--and therefore, I know,” he said. As if that explained everything.
“So let me get this straight. He shares his blood with you. Gives you all the tidbits of info that went on in the day, and is basically your companion. That about sum it up?”
“She catches on so fast,” Kieran said with a smile to Dragon.
“We share many things, Rihker. Many lovely things,” he said, catching my eye for a brief, intense moment as his hand began tracing its way up my left thigh. The warmth of his fingers left a trail of desire to course through me as I considered his words and the possibilities. Was he offering to share Dragon? Or share me?
The road was covered with potholes and overhung in a thick blanket of branches and overgrown bushes. It was excellent cover, and most people didn’t even know it existed. Needless to say, I had very few visitors.
“Stay to the right, the damage will be less to my tie rods,” I said as he skirted another deep groove in the roadway. I cringed with every bump and pothole he tried to avert. I eventually ended up clutching Dragon’s leg in a death grip as we found one rather deep rut and the truck bounced from side to side. I tumbled into Dragon’s warm chest as we rocked back to all four wheels. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“It is my pleasure.” His smile as he said it made my stomach do a little flip. I had no idea how I ended up sandwiched between the two of them. But the thought had prospects.
It took a good ten minutes to follow the winding dirt road before we made it to the little shack that I called home. With the headlights blaring on it, the place looked like a rundown pile in the middle of nowhere, which was exactly the image I was going for. It kept intruders from breaking in.
“Definitely not Trump Towers,” one of the Vamps said as he climbed out of the back of the truck. I think his name was Marcus. He had long brown hair to his waist that he kept out of his face with a purple bandanna. He reminded me of a pirate; straight thin nose, cleft chin. I kept picturing him walking around saying, Arg! Marcus the Marauder, that’s what I called him--well, in my head anyway.
I put a foot on the first step of the front porch, and Gimlit suddenly appeared at my side out of nowhere. His appearance shocked the hell out of not only me, but also the rest of the crew huddled in the darkness. The Vamps hissed on instinct. Weres hunched in battle mode, and a couple reached for a weapon.
“You are wounded, mistress,” Gimlit said with so much calm and civility that I knew Kieran was in deep shit.
His eyes found Kieran in the darkness, instantly knowing which one he was. I wasn’t sure if he had a flashing beacon above his head that said ‘I swore on all that is holy’, or what. But somehow Gimlit knew Kieran from the crowd that gathered on my front lawn. I guess now would be a good time for reassurances.
“Say nothing, Rihker,” Kieran said as he came up beside me, reading my mind. Again. However, I didn’t expect his next reaction.
He bowed at the waist as he addressed Gimlit, paying the Ogre his respect. “We were kept overlong in my realm, Wise One,” he said as he stared at Gimlit’s shoes. “There was deception from within. A battle ensued for our escape. Your trust I have broken. I am afraid her wounds are the fault of my people.”
Kieran remained with his head bowed as he spoke to Gimlit. I couldn’t see his face, as his long black hair hung loosely, covering its sides. I totally didn’t expect this three-sixty display of homage towards my Ogre. Gimlit was my guardian, sure. But I had never seen anyone in the Other World behave as Kieran was doing now.
Oh, I had heard whispers around the Silent Court of Gimlit and his prowess from the time of the old wars, times when Ogres fought against Goblins and the Death Stalkers were the silent shadows of our people; the time before we walked freely among the humans and lived by their laws.
Gimlit had once been revered as a healer and a great fighter among the Ogre race. His name still traveled many tales that were passed down among his peoples. And until now, I had never been a part of this side of him. It definitely gave me things to consider where my guardian was concerned.
Gimlit looked at the Vampire, his tall, lean frame held as still as the darkness around us. He watched Kieran, whose head was bent in respect as he waited for Gimlit’s consideration for his admission of neglect to his ward.
Something stirred inside Gimlit’s massive frame, a flicker of light flowing through him like an inkling of things to come. I could almost feel it somewhere deep inside myself, like a knowing, a shared truth.
With that knowledge, he simply said, “You will heal her.”
Kieran stared at the giant.
Gimlit simply repeated, “You will heal her.” Then he scooped me up into his arms and carried me up the remaining stairs and into the house.
Something strange had passed in those silent moments between my Ogre and Kieran, and I wasn’t sure what it was. A strange awareness lingered in my belly, like a fist clutched too long in the cold. And yet I couldn’t release it, couldn’t make it open and let the knowledge travel into my being. I only hoped that whatever it was, that Gimlit knew what he was doing.
At the moment, I was too battle-weary to care much about anything else. I was home. And Gimlit would take care of me. That’s all that mattered to me right now.
The Weres entered my home behind us, but Kieran and the remaining Vamps stood at my threshold, waiting to be granted entry. Gimlit carried me halfway down the hall to the nearest bathroom when Kieran cleared his throat. “We can not enter without her permission,” he said, as Gimlit turned so that I could see him.
Kieran stood silhouetted in the doorframe, the moon riding the darkness in the sky at his back, causing his hair to glint in the halo of silver light that surrounded him. The aura of light and darkness surrounding him constricted my belly, and my breath caught. For a Vamp, he truly was a delectable creature.
My eyes found the beautiful darkness of the shadowed pools of his amethyst-hued gaze. It drew me to him. Drew me to the still, deadly creature that stood outside my door, quietly waiting for me to grant him entry into my private world. For a moment, I silently considered what it all meant.
I pondered what the Prophets had planned for me, a Hunter of those who stood outside my door, and Kieran, a Death Stalker, who seemed to be slipping below my radar, ever so subtly creeping beneath my skin and causing a stir. What would happen if I let him into my home? My life?
Only one way to find out.
Softly I replied, “I grant temporary access of my home to you, Kieran, and the brethren I see before me. Access to be revoked upon my will and my word. For a time, enter, and be welcome.”
You could almost feel the weight of the air shift as he acknowledged my words. The wind stirred the tendrils of his hair as the elements bore the weight of them. When he took that first step into my home I could feel the pressure in my chest, weighing on me like an uprooted tree thrust upon me. Something inside me felt like it popped, and immediately the pressure was gone.
We both knew the weight of my words. I’d chosen them carefully. We knew they granted him and only those he’d brought with him immunity into my home. Mercy would not be allowed to cross the threshold. Not without my permission. Nor would any of the others he’d sent to his other holding.
I did not want my home run amok with Vamps. He could just deal with it, or not. At this point, I really didn’t care.
I sucked in a deep breath of air and wished I hadn’t as my back began to throb. Big mistake. It was time for Doctor Gimlit to get to work before I passed out from the pain.
Gimlit turned back down the hall and headed for the bathroom. I wanted out of these clothes and into a shower. Not to mention the fact that my back was going to need some serious stitching. And I fucking hated stitches.
Requiems from the dead for the living, requiems
In each flame for the living and the dead.
From Las Animas by Mario Luzi
Translated from the Italian by Dana Gioia
Chapter Eleven
Steam filled every nook and cranny of my wide, green-carpeted bathroom as I slowly peeled off the final layers of my clothes and tossed them in a pile. The whole room was done up in the dark colors of the forest, and I sighed as I let the comfort of my private bathroom ease around me. This was one of my retreats, and I was pleased just to be able to curl my toes into the thick matte of the lush rug beneath my feet.
My shirt had met a sad death, and my pants were pretty much a bloody ruin as well. But I was alive. Wounded, but alive. I guess I had to be
thankful.
The ragged, naked figure looking back at me in the mirror didn’t appear so grateful. My long green hair hung in knotted strands around my shoulders. I had dark circles beneath my silver-red eyes, and the hint of a shiner was welling around the right one. Hesitantly, I reached up and touched my split lip.
I had bruises pretty much from head to toe. I could just imagine how bad my back looked. Judging from the pain that kept slicing through me every time I moved, the wounds had to be bad.
Gimlit had brought in and filled the clawfoot tub as close to the rim as he could with steaming hot water and a mixture of oil and herbs. He didn’t bother me with the details of the healing mixture. Frankly, my body hurt so much that I didn’t want to know.
“Rest, mistress. Clean the wounds, then we will get you healed,” he said as he ducked his head and left me to it. I just hoped I didn’t drown. Normally the clawed tub was left out back and only used for certain emergencies. Since it had to be hand-filled and I didn’t have a working tub in my house, we didn’t use it often.
The whole call-the-tides business and all--we were definitely not having a repeat.
But I guess tonight was considered an emergency.
I felt kind of bad that Gimlit had to lug the thing in and then fill it up for me so I could lie in the healing water. But he insisted it was for the best.
I stepped into the water and the heat curled around my legs, causing me to suck in my breath. It was just this side of being too hot to get into. Bracing my arms on the edge of the tub, I held my breath and slowly lowered myself into it, inch by slow inch.
The hazy water swirled around my belly as I lowered myself deeper. I could feel the heat piercing through the lacerations on my back and I clutched the tub rim tighter, forcing myself to sit. When the water lapped over my breasts, I finally took a breath.
