08 Blood War-Blood Destiny

by Suttle, Connie

  "Yes. And I heard that Roff was with her when this happened. How is he?"

  "Better than Lissa. She told him about Toff not long ago. He still has not gained his full memory, but he feels the betrayal anyway."

  "Poor Toff. If someone did that to my girls," Glinda was as close to blowing smoke as Garde had ever seen her. She went Thifilatha when she turned—Glinda was the only female High Demon who'd ever done it. Female High Demons didn't turn as a rule. Garde wondered about her daughters, though, and if they might grow up with that ability.

  "Anyone else would have killed over that," Garde agreed.

  * * *

  We held the memorial two days later and everyone in the palace went. They'd all liked Davan. He'd been shy and self-effacing, much of the time. Grant and Heath both spoke about what a good friend he'd been. Then it was my turn.

  "I knew the moment I met him, that we were related," I said. "He bore the scent of my grandmother, whom I'd just met. Kifirin and I found him and the others—most turned as a convenience for the state of Beliphar. Most of you have no idea what I would give to have my uncle back again." I couldn't go past that—if I did, I'd break down.

  Davan's ashes had been gathered and Jeral received them. He planned to take them to the light side of the planet, because Davan wanted to see the sun again. Since Jeral had been made Spawn Hunter, he could go wherever he pleased.

  Griffin and Amara had come and they sat in the back, holding little Wyatt. My little brother. Well, he'd be kept away from me, more than likely. No justice in telling him what his continued existence with his natural parents had cost others. Of course, Griffin wouldn't be taking that chance. He and Amara folded away immediately after the service—they didn't even try to talk to me.

  I went to find Kyler and Cleo afterward. "I want to take a little trip to the past," I told them. "I want to see my sister."

  "I've been putting it off," Cleo nodded. "I'll feel better if you're both with me." Well, she'd never met her mother, either. She'd been taken by Griffin while still a baby in the hospital on Cemdris, and moved to Earth. She'd grown up with adoptive parents there, while Griffin removed the memory from his daughter that she'd birthed twins. Did my father have the talent to fuck up lives or what?

  "Then we'll go," Kyler said, pulling me away from my thoughts. She was the one to bend time and fold space.

  It was a spring day on Cemdris and we found ourselves in a park. Children were running and playing here and there in the warm afternoon sun. A woman sat on a bench nearby, watching a dark-haired child playing on the swings. She was tall, as Griffin was, and bore his brown hair and gold-flecked brown eyes. I stared at my sister Ardith, who'd been dead for centuries. She looked very much like my grandfather, the King of Karathia, and it made my heart weep—for myself and for Wylend. We'd never been allowed to know her.

  "That's me on the swing," Kyler said softly. She stood between Cleo and me as we watched a seven-year-old Kyler playing. Griffin wouldn't be out and about—not during the day. He was vampire at the time.

  "She was a physician and worked nights at the hospital, because that's when Em-pah could take care of me," Kyler sighed, gazing at her mother.

  "You loved him then, didn't you?" I asked.

  "Em-pah taught me so many things," Kyler said. "And he did love me. It's just that later, things went downhill."

  "Yeah." I was in agreement with that.

  Cleo had been staring at her mother instead of joining the conversation. She walked away from us, going toward Ardith. She sat next to her on the bench, too. Kyler and I followed.

  "You're Ardith Endres, aren't you?" Cleo asked.

  "Do I know you?" My sister turned to Cleo with a puzzled frown.

  "No, I've heard about you from my sister, that's all," Cleo replied. "She said you worked at the hospital."

  "Ah." Ardith thought she'd treated a family member or something. "How is your sister?" It was the proper question to ask.

  "She's fine," Cleo said. "And this is my aunt Lissa." I nodded. Kyler had shielded herself, invisible to her mother.

  "Very nice to meet you. What is it that you do?" she asked me.

  "Oh, I'm a vampire," I said.

  "Unlikely, since you're here in daylight," she smiled slightly.

  "Well, that's how it started out," I agreed. "But not how it ended up."

  "My father is vampire, that's in the records," my sister sighed.

  "So was mine," I agreed. "We don't speak much, nowadays."

  "Because he's vampire?"

  "Because he doesn't tell me things," I said.

  "Mine, too," Ardith agreed. "I think he keeps things from me, or uses the compulsion he has to make things come out the way he wants them to. I got tired of fighting it, after a while. I feel like a puppet and he's pulling the strings, making all the decisions. Sometimes I wonder how things might have been if he hadn't been turned."

  "Same here," I said. "It gets a little old, using his kids to make things come out right."

  "I loved him when I was little—he was up nights and he'd tell me stories at bedtime," Ardith had a faraway look in her eyes. "But when I grew up and got married, well, things changed."

  "At least you had that love when you were little," I said. "I never knew my father growing up. I had a stepfather, who resented me because I wasn't his. I didn't meet my father until after I'd been made vampire. He sort of popped up, one day. And things haven't improved much since then."

  "I understand. Look, it has been nice meeting you, but I have to get my daughter home and start dinner. Perhaps we'll meet again, someday." Ardith stood. "Kyler," she called. "Time to go home."

  We watched as Kyler at seven jumped off the swing and trotted toward her mother. "Good-bye, Kyler," I said. "We'll see each other again, I promise." I smiled at her as she took her mother's hand and walked away.

  "I remembered this day," the grown Kyler said, as we watched them disappear around a curve in the sidewalk. "I didn't know then why you'd be saying something like that to me."

  "Now you know," I hugged her.

  "Let's bend time again," Kyler said, and took us out of there. When we arrived at our next destination, it was night and we were standing in a street outside several small shops and eateries. Kyler, at the same age we'd seen her before, was sitting on a stool in a sweet shop, swinging her legs happily and eating ice cream. Griffin sat across a tiny round table from her.

  "You've got ice cream on your chin, baby." That was Griffin's voice. He was passing a napkin to the young Kyler.

  "Em-pah, what will I be when I grow up?" Kyler asked, as she swiped at her chin with the paper napkin. Griffin leaned over and got the spot she missed.

  "Baby, you'll be amazing when you're older. Just wait and see. Promise you'll still love your Em-pah then?"

  "I'll always love you, Em-pah," the seven-year-old Kyler declared, taking another bite of ice cream.

  "I'll always love you, baby," he said. "I promise."

  Well, that went for granddaughters. It didn't hold for daughters, apparently. I felt like crying again.

  "Did you ask your daughter the same question, when she was seven?" I was there, standing beside the small table in a blink, asking my father a question when he didn't have any idea who I was. "Tell me why she's disillusioned, now."

  Griffin looked at me, and I knew he had foresight, even then. "I did the best I could for Ardith," he replied. "Only some things—and some people—were more important."

  "I can see that, now," I told him. "And the ones not so important you walk away from, isn't that right? Even though they might deserve a little better from you. You're no different from your mother, you know that?" I was crying when I folded away, leaving Cleo and Kyler behind.

  * * *

  "Lady," Thurlow was inside my private study when I folded in. Well, if he didn't know before, he did now. He didn't even blink, I'll give him that. I wanted privacy so I could break down and sob at my desk. Yet here he was, wanting something.

&nb
sp; "Mr. Burghin," I wiped my cheeks with a hand that shook. "What can I do for you?"

  "I didn't know what you'd be, all those years ago. I didn't even bother to go Looking," Thurlow sighed. "All I knew was that Griffin had flaunted what he had, yet again. Managed to father a child—when he was supposed to be sterile. Didn't even argue that much with me, when I pointed it out to him and levied the punishment. That should have been my clue. He didn't argue very much that time, and he always argued. Pointed things out to me that I should have gone to investigate for myself." He shook his head as I stared at him in shock.

  "I was so full of myself back then," Thurlow went on as I wiped tears away and gaped. "Thinking how powerful I was and how things were going so well. I picked Kiarra, you know," he laughed humorlessly. "And then set her up as First when she took care of three Ra'Ak. Griffin had been First before that, did you know? I made him Fourth after that. He was very angry and that made me happy, I think. Something that should have been beneath me, you know. I made other mistakes, too. Was sent back to the beginning for those mistakes. I've had to work my way back to the present, as you can see. I was sent to make things right between you and me, before I can move forward and take up my old work again. I'm beginning to think that's an impossibility, Lady. Do you know what the worst part of it is?"

  I stared at Thurlow Burghin, my mouth open in surprise, I'm sure. I wanted to sob. His name wasn't Thurlow. Close, but not. He offered a crooked smile with those sensuous lips. I had no idea if those were truly his or if he'd borrowed them or made them up from nothing. Thorsten—of the Powers that Be stood before me. If he and Griffin had both been there, I might have let loose with the biggest scream of frustration ever. I might have attempted to slap them through a wall. That wouldn't solve anything, though. Not even a little.

  "I no longer use that name," he said, as he watched emotions cross my face.

  "Uh-huh," I muttered, looking down at my clean desk. I found myself wishing that Grant, Heathe and Davan weren't so efficient. And then I remembered that Davan was dead.

  "I had nothing to do with that, and wasn't allowed to interfere with anything other than your life and the protection of it," he said.

  "So. Not going by Thorsten, then. What the hell am I supposed to call you, now?" I lifted my gaze to stare at him.

  "Thurlow is acceptable. All know me by that name, this time. I inserted records into the Alliance data banks so they'd recognize me and send me to you. I send the Alliance what they need, without giving them anything important," Thurlow said. "Solar Red and Black Mist moles are hidden in the Alliance too, you know."

  "That's so wonderful to hear," I muttered. "And you still haven't explained what the worst thing was—what you said before."

  "Yes, the worst part of all this," Thurlow smiled crookedly. "Love has a way of twisting your heart, did you know that? I didn't—not until now. Sometimes I wonder if this isn't part of my punishment—sending me to watch out for you, when they knew I'd love you. Knowing, more than likely, that once you learned who I was before, that loving me back would be the most impossible of things. I watch you with Gavin or Gardevik or any of the others, and I want to weep because for me that will never come. I cannot feel jealousy—that is impossible. Therefore, I have to hope. A hopeless hope."

  "Well, if you think for even one minute that I have anything left in me right now, then you are very wrong," I said to him. "Where were you when I was little and needing that love?"

  "I didn't bother to check on you," he lowered his eyes. "I thought you'd be unremarkable. I thought Griffin had found your mother because she might be the one capable, somehow, of having his child. I wasn't thinking."

  "So. An unremarkable child. That's rich," I muttered. "Is any child unremarkable? Should they be?"

  "I am learning," Thurlow looked at me again. "I beg you to be patient and not to close the door on me because of past mistakes. I also beg you not to reveal to the others who I am. Kiarra and Adam have no reason to treat me with anything other than contempt."

  "Yeah." Thorsten had interfered, pretty much, with their daughter Anna Kay, while she was still in the womb. Placed a M’Fiyah with an unborn child. He'd manipulated it, instead of allowing those involved to choose. That was forbidden and he'd done it anyway. That act had damaged Anna Kay and sent her off in a bad direction when she reached adulthood.

  Dragon, too, might have a few words for Thorsten—Anna Kay had been intended for him. The whole thing had turned out very badly, and Anna Kay died before she turned fifty. Bad blood and bad history. My twins had explained that story to me months ago—how Anna Kay developed jealousy and tried to kill Grace. It was a sad story for everyone involved.

  "As I said, I have had to work my way back to this time. There are other obstacles to overcome." He had that right—I was one of them. "This will be a challenge for me, I know," Thurlow went on. "But I beg you not to be cruel."

  "Why would I do that?" I snapped. "If I treated you like shit, I'd be you." I misted away.

  * * *

  "I have a memory now that I didn't have before." Griffin paced in front of Merrill's desk. They'd been as close as brothers for nearly two thousand years. Each of them had been on both sides of that desk many times.

  "What memory? How?" Merrill wasn't sure he understood.

  "Of Lissa. Only this was when I was still vampire and Kyler was seven years old on Cemdris," Griffin turned troubled eyes to Merrill. "Lissa, Cleo and Kyler had come, no doubt to see Ardith, my daughter. But they came looking for me, afterward."

  "And Lissa said something."

  "Yes."

  "What did she say?" Merrill lifted the letter opener that Lissa had given him three centuries before—a replica of a Roman sword. He'd placed it in stasis; otherwise, it would have been worn thin from handling long ago.

  "She told me I was no different from my mother."

  "What did you say to that?"

  "Nothing—I hadn't even seen her at that time. I thought she might have been slightly insane, but hitting upon a truth that I hadn't recognized before. I am my mother's son. When the child has outgrown their usefulness to me, I walk away in favor of the next one. Until they become useful again, as in Lissa's case. She was angry with me for bringing her into the world to serve my purposes—what I'd made her for. When she didn't show any signs of forgiveness quickly and Amara became pregnant, well, that was the time to dump my unforgiving daughter, wasn't it?"

  "Brother," Merrill sighed, "it is one thing to choose sacrifice for yourself. It is something completely different to sacrifice others. I could not have sacrificed my children. If I'd treated Franklin or Jeffrey that way, I would have no hope of ever winning their trust again. I think Lissa will be watching you from now on, expecting the next betrayal."

  "I know. I have been thinking a great deal about my mother in the past few hours. I expected the same from her, after a while. She drove every bit of love I had for her away with mistreatment and betrayal, culminating in what I thought to be the worst of all of it—when she drove me away from camp at age sixteen. That is nothing compared to what I've put Lissa through. She's right—I'm no different from Narissa."

  "I believe you love your son." Merrill watched Griffin, who came to stand next to the window, staring over the moonlit lawn outside.

  "I do." Griffin sighed. "I didn't see him. Never thought to Look. Lissa gave him to us, albeit unintentionally. My other children and grandchildren have been female. This is my son."

  "So, you think you'll find it more difficult to mistreat your son than it has been to mistreat your daughters and granddaughters?" Merrill knew there was a sadness in Kyler that might never go away.

  "I manipulated their births, so things would go as I planned. Wyatt wasn't planned."

  "That's the difference? That's the excuse you use?" Merrill hadn't called Griffin out on this before, but he failed to understand things the way they were now.

  "Lissa won't ever trust me. I've seen to that."

  "That's a
n excuse to be cruel?"

  "No, not an excuse, period."

  "Well, your daughter and granddaughters went into to the past. I think it's time we did the same." Merrill rose from his chair behind the desk.

  "Where are we going?"

  "To see Lissa," Merrill said, and bent time and folded space.

  "Oh, no." Griffin didn't want to see this, but it was where Merrill had taken him. A small figure lay in a hospital bed in intensive care, her head swathed in bandages and casts on both arms that lay upon the bed. A breathing tube had been inserted and the visible portion of the face was a mass of black and purple.

  "Her mother's funeral is being held right now," Merrill sighed as he and Griffin stood at the end of the bed. "I thought about taking you to watch her stepfather do this to her, but even I can't stand by and watch that."

  "Are you members of the family?" A nurse walked in, her voice curt as she asked the question.

  "I am her father," Griffin's voice held pain.

  "The one who did this to her?" The nurse was prepared to call for security.

  "No, that one is in jail. He is only her stepfather. I'm her biological father." Griffin's words caused the nurse to snort.

  "Where the hell were you, when this was going on?" she huffed.

  "Missing in action," Merrill made the reply for Griffin. The nurse nodded; the handsome, black-haired man might convince her of anything.

  "We'd like a moment, and you'll forget you ever saw us," Merrill laid compulsion. The nurse left the room without a word.

  "This makes it real, doesn't it?" Merrill said softly to Griffin, who stood and stared as the machine forced air into Lissa's lungs. "And the worst part of it is we have to stand here and look at this, knowing there isn't a single thing we can do about it. Not one damn thing to ease the suffering. What do you think that was like for her, brother? To stand there and watch your mother get beaten to death, and then to take the beating yourself?" Merrill shook his head.

  "I know you were tortured there at the end on Cemdris, but that was only a matter of weeks. Nineteen years it was, for your little girl. You took me to see Kiarra first, because you knew I’d focus my obsession on her and turn Lissa down later, sight unseen. You were the one to tell me I’d have a M’Fiyah with Lissa, after Wlodek asked me to teach her. You knew I’d ask you to remove the M'Fiyah without seeing her."