by Willow Cross
He released her and told Liz, “Go fetch her. Quickly. I will meet you at the house.” Turning to Big Jon he ordered, “We need additional guards posted around the perimeter. Have the witches double check their spells and send four guards with each.”
A puzzled look came over his face, but he turned and began barking out orders.
They raced to accomplish the tasks while Michael sent out another order for everyone, except the sentries on duty, to return to the house. Even the witches’ were called.
Liz scooped up the child, and was back to the house in a flash. Michael and the rest arrived within seconds of her return. “What is going on? Is there trouble?” she asked.
Michael looked concerned as he watched the shivering child. “She's been glamoured. Even amnesia doesn't wipe the mind blank like that. Get her in the other room and be ready to fight. She could be a decoy.”
She took little Jenna to the main living room and stood guard with the toddler in her arms. The danger for the girl was not reduced much inside. She was in a house full of hungry vampires. Even with her family and several witches surrounding her, she was worried. Quiet voices filled the room as they discussed what was happening.
The men, except for Michael, stayed away from the living room. A few women had wandered in to see the girl, but that number was steadily growing. Jenna clung to Liz, her tiny face buried in her shoulder. No longer crying, but still afraid it seemed.
Liz bent to kiss the top of her head. A sweet, inviting scent lured her. For the first time in weeks, she felt the darkness stir inside her. As her mouth began to water, she clenched her teeth, and swallowed hard. An image of her fangs embedded in the youngster's neck, flashed though her mind. So real she could almost taste blood in her mouth. Revulsion enveloped her. Turning her face away, she glanced at the others in the room. All eyes centered on her, some seemed amazed, while others held fear.
Liz pushed at the darkness, shoving it back into the lowest recesses of her being. Once again lowering her head, she breathed in the scent of her, allowing it to tantalize her senses. This time with little effort, her mind controlled the preternatural instincts. Certain that she was no longer a threat to the girl, she whispered, “It's okay, you’re okay now.”
Still clinging to Liz, Jenna shuddered but would not speak.
As she held the shivering child, she went into the girl’s mind and began to speak. “It’s okay, baby. You're going to be fine now, we are going to take very good care of you. No one will hurt you. I won't let them. Shhh. It’ll be all right Jenna, don’t worry.”
Liz’s eyes widened as the girl asked, “W-Who are you? Where is my mommy? My head hurts…I’m hungry!”
Shocked, Liz looked around. Everyone in the room heard it. The child’s mouth did not open one time, but her words were clear to everyone in the room and even most outside. At first, they stood in stunned silence. Then they all began talking at the same time. Utter chaos ensued. Vampires were coming from all over the property, to see the child that had vampire talents. Arguing erupted from the next room. Someone yelled out, “She's a spy!”
“She's not human, get her out of here!”
“She is human, I can smell it.” Another voice answered.
Liz felt a tug as someone grabbed at the toddler and went into hunt mode. Clutching Jenna to her chest, she snarled and crouched, ready to rip the throat out of anyone who might take the girl away from her.
Minerva yelled, “Protective cover,” and the witches in the room surrounded Liz and the girl while shouting out incantations to ward off any that might approach.
A low guttural growl came from the group of vampire women surrounding her as they reacted in response to Liz’s hunting stance. Glass broke and went flying as someone was thrown out of a window, and then another vampire followed right after. Vampires hissed and snarled while witches continued chanting immobilization spells. Then quiet. The skirmish had been quickly subdued.
Those that had wanted to take the child were outside and those inside were ready to kill anyone who advanced toward the girl. Liz was still crouched with her fangs bared and ready when Jenna laughed. Just a quiet little laugh. Her big brown eyes looked up into Liz’s and she smiled. “My Mommy can do that!” she said.
“Your Mommy can do what, baby?” Liz asked, trying to regain some composure.
“My Mommy shows her teeth when she gets mad too. She tells me the best bedtime stories. You smell like her. What’s your name?”
Several gasps were heard from the onlookers. Liz looked at those around her and saw the same shock her face must be registering, on each of the faces around her.
The child was definitely human. There was no doubt about that, so how could her mother be one of them? Michael appeared beside Liz, and gently took the child from her. She made no fuss as he held her. She simply looked into his eyes and smiled. He returned her gaze and smile, went into her head, and probed her mind for answers to the impossible situation.
“My name is Michael. Do you think you could answer a few questions for me?”
Jenna nodded.
“You have a Mommy and a Daddy, right?”
“Yes.”
“Does your Daddy look and smell like us?”
“No, he smells like me!” She giggled.
“What’s your Mommy’s name, little one?”
“It’s Mommy silly!”
The conversation went around in circles like that for a while. The whole time they were talking, Michael searched the child’s memories for pictures of her parents and their life together. Visions of her mother flashed in his mind. Pale skin, cold to the touch, the sweet scent of spices, crimson lips pulled back in a smile showing elongated fangs. “Your Mommy is a vampire?”
“She's special. Not like me though, I'm a different kind of special.”
“Yes, you certainly are.” Still probing, he found the memories of her father. Standing over a bathroom sink shaving, another of him laughing and tugging at her braid, the man was definitely human. Warm to the touch, tan skin, vivid eyes but no luminescence that was an earmark of a vampire.
That was unheard of, vampires and humans did not run in the same circles. Jenna’s telepathic ability was another aspect of the relationship that made no sense. How does a human child acquire vampire abilities? It shouldn’t be possible. As he searched her memories, he kept running into a wall. There were certain parts of the young girl’s mind he could not access. It was curious, but no more so than anything else that had to do with the child.
When Michael realized he had found out all he could, he released her mind and sat her in Liz’s lap. He sent a few of the others to find her some human food, and fortified the compound with as many battle-ready guards as he could find. Monroe would give anything to have a child like this at his disposal. The attack on the girl’s family couldn’t have been a coincidence.
Jenna settled down in Liz’s arms and waited. She heard everything Michael said and knew food was coming. Liz reminded her of her mother, but the wrinkly lady was kind of scary. Most of the other people looked like her Mommy, so she wasn’t afraid of them. In the back of her mind though, she had this little prickly thing. An uncontrollable shiver ran through her.
Feeling the vibration, Liz asked, “What's wrong, are you cold?”
“No, it's my prickle.”
“Your what?”
“Sometimes I have a prickle about stuff. About where we're going, or someone there. Sometimes it's about the car!”
Confused, but trying hard to keep up, Liz said, “I don't understand sweetie. What is a prickle?”
Jenna's small hand moved to twirl her hair. “It's a...a feeling I get. We call it a prickle. I feel like something’s wrong, and if we do it anyway, something happens.”
“What sort of feeling are you having right now?”
Jenna nervously looked around the room before linking with Liz. “I think someone here don't like me.”
“Of course they like you. Don't be s
illy. You'll be just fine, I promise.” Liz smiled and patted her head.
Uncertain, Jenna silently watched those in the room. She was good at reading people. Well the mommy kind of people she could read. The daddy kinds of people were harder but she could read some of them too. So she sat quietly in Liz’s lap and waited.
The others slowly meandered back to their tasks. There were only a handful left in the room and they were all there for protection. Jenna slid off Liz’s lap and walked over to where Angie sat in the corner. Jenna giggled, peaked around Angie to look behind her, and said, “Hello.” After the strange salutation, she moved forward and put her hand on Angie’s knee.
Curious of her friend’s reaction, Liz watched. Neither of them spoke. Not an auditory word, anyhow. They looked into each other’s eyes for a short time. Angie smiled, nodded once, and sat the girl in her lap. William materialized in the corner behind Angie, winked at Liz, and walked through the wall. Jenna curled up and went to sleep. Angie’s restlessness faded away and she began to show signs of her old self again. By the time the others came back with food for the girl, Angie had returned to her normal chattering. There was a harder vicious side to her now though. She wouldn’t let anyone but Liz or Michael anywhere near Jenna, not even the witches.
Having Jenna around extremely complicated things, but Liz, and especially Angie, enjoyed it. Her ability made it hard to discuss the war effort. Those first few days were a major adjustment period for everyone. Jenna’s third day there, the dreams began.
Fire! Everywhere, fire roaring. The fortress was burning. Red and blue flames shot out of the windows above. Pictures and tapestries burned below. Vampires screamed as they died in the flames. Smoke, so black that you could not see a foot in front of you, filled rooms and tunnels. People ran through the smoke, fighting as they ran. Swords clanged, glass shattered, and there was blood everywhere. So much blood. It drenched everything. Running down walls to puddle on the floor.
The walls shuddered before caving in. Stones fell from the ceilings. Tunnels collapsed. The smell of wet earth surrounded, suffocating and pressing you down into the burning hot stone of the tunnel floor. Then the cold. Icy, frigid, water pouring down fast and hard. Then the pressure of being under the soaked heavy dirt. Crushing, heaviness. Then floating. More screaming. Then the quiet of death. Real death, the end of everything. A total nothingness. Just the darkness and quiet. Then waking in terror.
The first day of the dream Liz and Angie told no one, not even each other. That evening when all the others were up and around, most were quiet and subdued. It was quite by chance that anyone even mentioned the dream.
Most in the camp were in foul moods. Now most vampires, even in the best of moods, are hard to get along with. They have that whole superiority issue going on. They think they’re always right and always know best. Put a group of these egomaniacs together, and you’ll have trouble. Putting a group of them together when they’re in foul moods, is a recipe for disaster. So of course, after a few little squabbles here and there between several of them, a heated argument ensued.
“Micah, grab a few men and walk the perimeters.” Big Jon ordered.
“Will do boss,” he replied.
Big Jon took one last look at his clipboard and searched the group gathered around the fire. “You there.” He pointed at a blond male sitting across from him.
The vampire looked up gesturing toward his chest.
“Yes you. I don’t recall your name. Have you been given a duty for the evening?”
“A couple, but thanks for asking,” the man replied and turned his head to continue his conversation with the female sitting next to him.
“Hold up there, son. What exactly were you told to do? And why aren’t you out there doing it?”
The male stood and advanced to where Big Jon stood, glaring the whole time. “You got a problem with me? I already told you I’ve had more than one task to perform.”
“I don’t believe I like your tone, youngster.” Big Jon’s clipboard dropped to the ground as he began rolling up his sleeves.
“Oh yeah? Well I don’t think I like you period. You seem to think you’re pretty big shit around here.” He looked around at the others. The onlookers stared back.
“You have about two seconds to reconsider your tone, boy.”
That was it. The young one flew across the meager space between them and unloaded several blows against Jon’s head. Jon didn’t so much as flinch as the young man threw three solid punches against his jaw. After the third hit, he stopped and stared incredulously at Big Jon.
Big Jon’s mouth slid into a crooked vicious smile. “My turn.” He threw one punch that bowled him end over end into the group of onlookers. Fists began flying and an all out brawl ensued. By the time the fracas was over, there were black eyes, cuts, and scrapes for nearly thirty of them. The newcomer apologized and told Big Jon he hadn’t slept well. A murmur of agreement went through those gathered there. They hadn’t slept well either.
It was the blond male who first brought up the dream. The others chimed in and started telling their versions of it. It was the same for everyone. Generally vampires don’t dream. The ability is lost when the change occurs. So for each one of them to have a dream at all was significant. For them to be the same was incomprehensible. It wasn’t just the vampires though, the witches had dreamed too.
Filled with foreboding, Minerva immediately set about reading tea leaves and doing prophetic incantations as she searched for the source. She pulled out her rune stones, and used some of the oldest and most dangerous magic. There was nothing. No clues. No ideas. Just nothing. She had one last thing she could try, but it would take forty-eight hours to prepare, and it was dangerous. She would have to conjure a portal.
“You want us to stand by and wait while you accomplish this task, Minerva. It's just a dream. We can't just drop everything.” Michael said.
“I'm not proposing that you do. We have no idea why this is happening. Don't you think it would be prudent to find the source? Have you ever heard of such a thing happening before?”
“No, but it could be a fluke. Some residual offset to having an extremely talented psychic in our midst. I agree that it's strange and unusual, but I also believe that our time would be better spent preparing to fight.” He answered.
Covering her face with her hands, she shook her head. “Listen to me. I understand the importance of the other things we are doing, but mark my words…this is happening for a reason. Someone is trying to tell us something. We need to know who that someone is and why they are interacting with us in this way.” Then squaring her shoulders, she placed her hands on her hips. “I would think you, of all people, would like to know who has that sort of access to your thoughts and mind.”
Taking a few moments to ponder her words, he finally answered. “You're right. A few days won't make any difference right now. What must be done?”
Although she had won, Minerva did not smile as she explained what was necessary to invoke the spell. “Portal magic is serious business and sometimes even deadly. Everything has to be just right. Even the alignment of the stars needs to be perfect. The proper alignment happens for a brief minute each night. If it is opened too soon, we could die. If open too long, same consequence. If not opened properly, it could explode and everything in the near vicinity would die.”
“You're not giving me much reason to be confident about your proposal.”
“I told you it was dangerous. Asking a portal is the only solution I can think of. Believe me, if I could think of something that wouldn't potentially blow my head off, I'd try it.”
Minerva silently wiped her damp hands on her long skirt as Michael thought. He watched her nervous reaction and knew he was under reacting to the situation. At this stage of the game, it was important to know who they were dealing with, and how they were entering so many minds at once. “Fine. Do what you must.”
She nodded and left to begin the arduous pro
cess of working the spell.
Preparations for the portal opening took longer than originally anticipated. Four days later, they were ready to begin. Each of those days, the vampires had the same dream. Each of those days, the entire lot woke up anxious and afraid. When it was almost time to work the magic, Minerva called in Michael and the others.
“You must remain still and quiet. There can be no talking or movement during the opening. Not one leaf is to be disturbed. This portal should go directly to the source of the dream. We will be able to see and hear what is going on there, likewise whoever or whatever is there, will be able to see and hear us as well. If we are lucky and do not draw attention to ourselves, we can close it without being noticed.”
“Minerva, are you sure this is going to work?” Michael asked.
“No. I haven’t opened a portal before. It is forbidden magic used only by dark witches.” She wiped sweat from her brow and rubbed her hands on the old white apron she was wearing. “We have no other option, Michael. If we are to find the source and meaning of the dream, it must be done. To enter into war and not have such knowledge would be signing our own death warrants. Now hush, there isn’t much time left.”
Soft chanting filled the air, gradually growing louder. Flames from the roaring fire shot higher and higher as it intensified. Bursts of blues and greens colored the flames as Minerva threw in the various magical ingredients. Around them, the air grew still as if the forest held its breath in anticipation of what would happen next.
Hair on arms and necks began to rise as if charged by an electric current. Slivers of blue lightning zipped back and forth around the blazing fire, turning it blue, until the fire itself seemed to have turned to water. In the center, a small blue ball flickered and grew, giving the impression of a large oval mirror. As the witches reached the high point of their chant, a loud bang reverberated through the clearing. Then total silence.
Minerva asked the portal to show her the source of the dream. A shadow appeared in the flames. First, dark and hazy like a shadow on the wall, then it became clearer and took on color like a television screen being tuned in. It was a woman. Blood spatters dotted her angry face. She was gorgeous. Flowing dark hair, pale, almost crystalline skin, she looked like a goddess of old. Her eyes glowed with the red embers of a long burning fire. She gazed directly upon them as if she knew each of them were there.
