by Lynn S.
“There’s just one more thing left.” Bansit’s hands lingered upon the door of the mausoleum. “This place must be closed and warded.”
The Morrigan still wore upon her the mantle of the three. Her last appointment to the city was to seal the entrance to the cell with a mark that only the Morrigan could lift. Instead of creating a new spell, the quiet sister of Waters turned toward the prince of Aval and touched his side. Killian felt the brand placed upon him for the better part of seven hundred years move from his torso to his hand, burning, trying to erupt through his skin.
Killian struggled to accept what had just happened. Though extremely painful, the energy burning in his hand was a testimony to the Morrigan’s kindness.
He was free.
Bansit guided his trembling hand to the mausoleum, transferring the curse that had been part of his existence for centuries into the door. It became a seal of another kind, an impenetrable barrier crafted by The Phantom Queens. No mortal would ever be able to get close to it before collapsing with fear; no supernatural being except Brigitte would ever find their way to it.
The prince looked at his hands, and for the space of a second, those black traces underneath the skin that told the story of a Fae shifted. It was an eerie feeling, as if he was given a chance to see his destiny changed. But Bansit covered his palm with her own hand before he could figure anything out about it. Healing, or perhaps granting an old enemy one last disservice, before everything settled between them.
“You are not to leave this plane yet, oh prince.” Bansit beckoned Brigitte near to take part of the conversation. “If I have learned something during my lengthy stay in this city, it is that one should never leave doors opened. The Lady of the Cemetery is a busy oracle, and few are lucky enough to be granted an audience, let alone have her authenticate a transaction. You still owe us, Killian. I’ll charge nothing for ridding you of the mark on your side. That was my decision. But still, we came to your rescue when Meav separated you from the world. Now it’s time for me to request you fulfill what I ask of you in lieu of breaking you out of the prisons of Aval.”
“I knew it!” Killian was somber, defeat had set upon his face. “Nothing is ever free with you, damn black birds. You’ll find a way to switch one type of slavery for another…” His words were cut short by a soft kiss, barely a brush upon his cheek, and words meant to riddle him even further.
“Nothing is ever lost, Killian. Sometimes our most painful certainties are nothing but a well-crafted illusion.” Bansit started to fade before his sight, but her voice lingered. “Two things I’ll ask of you: find her and try your best to be happy. That will settle your debt.”
She was gone, leaving nothing but the soft impression of her lips as a sign of a new beginning. Killian was left with Brigitte as his only company.
“Don’t even start thinking about asking what the hell she meant. Not that it is any of my goddamn business.” The oracle waived a finger. “My domain is this city, and your story, past and present, has nothing to do with New Orleans. Au revoir, Killian Faraday, Aidan de Fae, whomever you choose to be…”
The prince stood there, as if he were the newest fixture in the cemetery.
Brigitte left, reminding him that since he didn’t have his “mojo back,” he might as well take the streetcar. She had things to do, people to annoy. The usual. As she walked down the avenue, hiking up her jean shorts with every step, the Lady made it clear she had scores to settle.
“Oh, Wedo! This little novel you’ve been writing without my permission has come to an end. I hope you had fun pulling strings behind my back, you sneaky bastard. You’d better show up, because I’m taking a well-deserved vacation and you are paying all my expenses. The city is yours until I claim it back, you hear me? I have bourbon to drink, nights to burn away dancing, sweets to eat without consequence, and at least a couple of guys to look for…you know, kindness of strangers and all those things that might help relieve my tension. I quit, you hear me? Summer is yours, until the first chill of autumn or the first damn pumpkin spice latte reminds me it’s time to go back to the crypt.”
Her rant was drowned by laughter. By the time the streetcar bell announced it had reached its destination, all had been forgotten and forgiven. After all, nothing stopped the sun from rising in the east, and New Orleans woke from a deep sleep, vibrant and full of life.
Chapter XXIX
Blood Bonds
The dweller remembered, but kept silent. Though it was hard to let go of the memories. Sometimes, deep in the vacuum crafted by and for himself, he reminisced about those days in which he was a glorious night bird. His was the stunning darkness, all-encompassing, as well the hushed preludes to lightning strikes.
In olden days, he had claim to the void between the stars from which he’d fall upon those wanting and waiting, leaving in his wake an implausible mix of terror and beauty. Worshipped as he was, bloodlust was more than a search for sustenance. The demand for that red-hot liquid marked him as a god. He or she who died for him and by him, counted themselves blessed. He was given license to kill freely, with the skill of an artist who didn’t need to measure his brushes upon a canvas.
They slept for him underneath an open sky, bodies bared after a fervent prayer, their delectable flesh rinsed clean by the waters of a river. It was love that led them there, not fear.
And yet, mistakes were committed. At first it was just by some, then all fell to the need that exceeded what they were freely given. The vice that sneaked in every measure of power was hard to keep track of. They took his body, which he thought eternal. Light charred his skin to the point of agony and drove him to Shadows. The Shadows welcomed him but for a while, before it was resolved he should be imprisoned behind glass.
Truth be told, he needed a lesson. Acknowledging brought neither peace nor resignation. But now, a force greater than his own bound him to a promise.
He slept, away from it all. Though once in a while, he looked through someone else’s eyes, tasted the world through his senses, and found it good, and fair.
***
Clearwater, Florida
Eighteen Months Later
The women came, as many others, from somewhere up north. They leased the condo and paid one year in rent’s worth without even negotiating the price. The leasing agent didn’t ask many questions, except what was needed to make good conversation. Not that he’d remember much after chatting up the one with wavy golden hair. He moved away from the table with the impression they were sisters, and happy about having such committed clients.
The other one, the quiet blonde with slate gray soulful eyes, worked during the day while her alluring roommate, the one with the gift of gab, kept a night schedule. Checking in and out, they walked out of that apartment as if through a revolving door. Saturdays, however, they waited to have those long chats their busy weekly schedules didn’t allow for.
Marissa had barely woken up, her face was puffy, and even after taking a brief shower there were still sheet tracks upon her skin. Having slept in, it took her by surprise to find Adriana still awake. It was almost eight o’clock in the morning and the Florida sun was working its way through every space not covered by thick curtains. Adriana should have already retired to the safety of her room. If not exercising caution, because her body commanded it, she was risking being rendered paralyzed by the vampyr’s sleep.
Her mother’s presence didn’t disturb the silence in the living room in any way. Marissa appreciated her in profile. Adriana looked barely a couple of years older than herself, her transition into a vampyr finally erasing the few expression lines granted upon her by the passage of time. Still as a sculpture, only her eyes revealed a degree of emotion as she looked into a mirror with perceivable nostalgia.
As careful as Marissa was, it is hard for a vampyr to miss out on a detail. Adriana had more than one way to acknowledge her daughter’s presence. She decided to smile and smack her lips. Celebrating her gorgeousness in front of the glass, Adriana pulle
d her hair up and turned.
“Whaddaya think, roomie? Looks better in a bun, doesn’t it?”
Marissa nodded while making a mental note of how much they both had changed. For the better, as it turned out. Living free of secrets, at least among themselves, implied reaching a level of intimacy they thought they could not grant one another. They had learned to have their moments and set their boundaries. The old Marissa would have pushed and cornered, questioning Adriana’s every move while presuming to know all the answers.
She knew exactly what her mother was doing, or trying to do.
There were moments Adriana felt immortality cheated her of possibilities, as she turned to a place where she had nothing, and everything. But then, just like that, looking at her daughter, it was easy to reconcile herself. Marissa once asked her if she truly loved Bastian. The fact that Adriana stayed, being the mother and friend she once promised to be, answered that question.
“I think it does! But you are not committed to change, let alone spend the time needed to make it look decent.” Marissa slumped on the love seat, as if she hadn’t slept the whole night through. “The question is…did we stay up late to talk hair care?”
“I don’t know. It feels, against all turns of the wheel, like I have energy to burn. You should venture late into the night more often. There’s absolutely everything happening out there, if you know where to look. Give this sandbar a couple of years and it might start catching up to the city.”
The city was none other than New York. They both agreed it had to stay behind. As soon as Marissa connected her mother’s soul back into her body, removing the stake that kept her paralyzed, they left Innisfree and any other connection to their past life in the rearview mirror.
They settled in Florida’s west coast. After all, they needed a place that might accommodate both their needs, and there were few options. Marissa went back to “the grind,” as her mother called it. Against objections, she settled in one aspect of her old life. Yearning for the familiar, Marissa found a space in an emerging law firm, where she worked as a paralegal. The pay was reasonable, the workload half of what she was used to, and her coworkers were nice people, in and out of the office.
It was all settled. All good. She soon found herself thinking about Esteban with fondness and not grief. He told her once she’d love Clearwater, proving how well he knew her.
There were other subjects, however, she never touched. Whatever transpired in New Orleans left a terrible sense of guilt and quite a load of bitterness to deal with. She had grown enough to know that she had taken chances and made choices meant to stay with her forever. She had seen both life and death deal behind the curtain. Walking out unscathed would have been too much to ask.
Time found a way to fill her head with other issues, fortunately, of the trivial kind.
Adriana, now her vampyr mistress, had proven to be a lot less reckless after her transformation was completed. Be it she considered Marissa’s role of dhampyr or daughter…who knew? What mattered was that her mother had comfortably adapted to a new identity.
Adriana now sported identification that stated her name was Dina Marshall. Marissa had worried at first that the impulsive vampire might become a headache, but Adriana’s impact in the city was minimal. She had learned the art of controlled feeding, which her daughter clearly appreciated.
Marissa had even learned to indulge in Adriana’s tastes, as sometimes her mother would pour thick and red for her in one of those glasses meant only for special occasions.
“Hey!” Adriana’s voice demanded her attention. “You looked like you zoned out for a sec there. I was saying you can find anything around here.”
“And I was paying attention, Adriana. You’ve only said it twice…”
“Good. ’Cause I’m about to ask you a favor. Go out for once. I will not even ask you to doll up, that’s a lost cause, but just…have a little weekend fun. Don’t lounge here eating rye toast and funky cream cheese. I just discovered the most adorable café on Laura Street that’s a magnet for all kind of oddballs. I bet you’ll fit right in!”
Marissa rolled her eyes and chuckled, taking the inappropriate compliment. After Brigitte, Adriana’s brand of humor had become much more bearable. Her mother just waved as she disappeared down the hallway, unable to resist the call of a preternatural sleep any longer.
There was nothing left to do but roll back the curtains and welcome the day. The sun showed no mercy, as one would have hoped for November. After discovering that some mysterious force had made all coffee filters disappear from the cabinets, Marissa decided to go for a walk.
In the safety of a sealed tight room, her mother slept soundly, lips curled in a most curious grin. Adriana’s days behind the mirror were one thing. However, details she had noticed when trapped within a silver cameo made her reconsider certain concepts about people she thought set in stone. After all, eternity proved boring without games of chance. She knew better than anybody that even monsters might change their ways, and slept with a clear conscience.
***
It would have been no trouble to stop for filters, but Marissa took to Laura Street. If only to humor Adriana and find what could possess the vampyr to start recommending cafes. She found the place soon enough. A sign in the window read: ‘Open until 3:00 a.m. Ask for the FSU Midnight Oil Blend.’
Oh dear! Adriana is now hunting in student hangouts. The idea of the vampire seducing college guys out of their wits didn’t seem too farfetched.
In daylight, the place looked warm and welcoming. The aroma of Arabica mixing with the sticky sweet of cinnamon twirls…and the daughter saw what mother meant for her to see.
For the space of several heartbeats, her heart felt as if it had failed her. Marissa couldn’t believe how easy it was for Adriana to reduce something transcendental to mere trivial business. The doubt and fear she’d held since that unmentionable night at the steps of Lafayette #1 cleared in an instant, requiring her to rein in a world of emotion.
He was there. Behind the counter. At that moment, his attention and courteous smile was fixed on an elderly tourist who was debating whether or not to buy some pastries for his wife.
Marissa observed as the dark-haired man exchanged a couple of words with the fellow about sweets. He smiled pleasantly, sealing the deal. Suddenly she resized that one of the things she missed most about her brief and forced stay in New Orleans was seeing blue eyes that sparkled along with a smile, reassuring.
She had seen many things and was ready to face more, but this…was just unexpected. Still, she had to know whether he was the same or if the circumstances had changed him. For one, he was standing in daylight.
“Garan?” Her voice was barely a whisper, but she knew it was enough.
He turned toward her voice, not able to hide the shock that soon turned into a welcoming demeanor. Of course Adriana hadn’t warned him either. She probably snuck in, obfuscating her way out of a situation, which made Marissa wonder about the dweller within.
“Marissa?” It was as if he had completely forgotten, and upon seeing her, realized she was never meant to be erased from his memory.
Garan motioned for her to stop, pleading with all his body she’d stay there while he called out for someone. His shift partner showed up, a little annoyed at being taken out of the kitchen to tend to the registers, but there was no other option left.
He told her to take a seat at one of the tables on the terrace, and she waited as he showed up once again with a couple of cups of steaming coffee.
Nolton wore a simple, soft yellow polo shirt with his name embroidered in black. His skin glowed, sun kissed, as it had once been.
“Chicory, isn’t it?” Marissa broke the ice. She could smell the bitterness against the sweet of sugar.
“Darlin’, there’s no other kind.”
He raised the cup and she noticed there was a tattoo peeking from underneath his sleeve. Fibers of blue-black that spread on an angle from a stem. A fragment of a feathe
r. A representation of the magic that restored his body, a present from the one who thought him worthy of a second chance.
There was no visible sign of the dweller within, not the telltale signs of a vampire, but Marissa couldn’t help but notice that his coffee was untouched and the course of the blood within his veins was erratic. She had grown used to Adriana’s sluggish heartbeat. Garan’s illusion was effective, but only to the untrained.
“He found his way back to you, didn’t he? He’s still there. Wanting, waiting, driving the thirst…” It was the need to satisfy her curiosity and not fear that drove her to ask. Oddly enough, she missed not having to be on her guard, trying to determine who was she speaking to.
“He is pretty much around. My life is no longer what is used to be, but I can’t complain. We live by special arrangement. I give him certain advantages—the sun for one. He gives me a certain amount of power that I find manageable. I keep us both out of trouble and that guarantees he sleeps longer, not quite worrying about the people after him.” Garan drew a breath, listening in. “But he is here all right, and he’s happy to see you.” Nolton’s lips contorted in a perversion of a smile and his eyes gleamed almost silver.
“There’s not a lot to worry about, really. I see you have all kinds of friends in interesting places. How are Wedo and Brigitte?” Marissa paused a moment before mentioning the Lady.
“Well enough, or so it seems. They must still be playing some kind of game. A far reaching one. After all, I didn’t remember you until I saw you.” Garan might have found some kind of wisdom in this, but Marissa didn’t find it funny.
They saw each other that night and the next. As they drove down the causeway to the beach, they realized that they’d need more than a couple of quiet nights. As they reached home, the sea had grown calm, the predawn shadows making it all look like the darkened surface of a mirror.
