by M. K. Dawn
Darrien clicked his tongue. “I expect nothing less than exceptional service tonight if either of you want a tip. These hands should never lack an alcoholic beverage.”
Evie giggled. “What kind of tip are you after, Mr. Barrows?”
Ethan could handle the playful innuendos between the two, but what he didn’t like to see was Evie throwing herself at his friend. “Let’s keep that kind of talk to ourselves.”
The front door opened without warning and a lean man with brown hair down to his back entered. “I am Laras and am here to escort you to the celebration. Are you ready? We are about to begin.”
Darrien leaned closer to Ethan. “Guess knocking isn’t a thing here.”
Ethan shushed him. “Let’s keep the insults to a minimum, can we?”
“I whispered.”
“But they might have enhanced hearing.”
Darrien rubbed his hands together. “Care to put it to the test?”
“Please don’t,” Laras said without a hint of emotion. “Follow me.”
Darrien slapped Ethan on the shoulder. “Well, that answers that. Though my way would have been more entertaining, but at least now we know. Ladies, after you.”
Ethan followed them out, keeping a close eye on Evie and Samantha as Laras led them through the witches’ village. Darrien walked between the two, acting as a barrier. He and Evie were chatting about the place—not that there was much to say.
Every hut resembled the next except for an emblem to the left of each door. It was a detail Ethan hadn’t noticed right away, but he wished he had; it would be nice to find their way back to their hut without a guide.
The smell of burning wood hit his nose first. Followed by the faint sound of music as they rounded the corner to what Ethan thought must have been a town square.
There were people scattered about, some lost in conversation while others danced; all had drinks in their hands. In the middle stood a bonfire that must have been twenty feet high.
“Where are all the children?” Evie asked.
“Together in a nearby hut being watched by our elders who did not wish to take part.” Laras continued to walk as he spoke.
As they crossed the threshold, the volume of the music tripled. “Did anyone else notice that?” Ethan asked.
“We place a spell around the square,” Laras said as he led them deeper into the festivities, “as to not disturb those who leave early and wish for quiet.”
“That’s considerate,” Samantha said.
“Guinevere reserved a seat next to the fire.” He gestured to a long wood bench. “Sit. She will be along shortly.”
Unsure what to do next, Laras left them alone.
Darrien scanned the area. “I bet this celebration gets crazy as the night goes on.”
“Why do you say that?” Samantha asked.
“For one: everyone is drinking and by the smell, it ain’t water. Two: there’s a couple in the corner over there getting all hot and heavy and no one seems to mind.”
Samantha’s mouth fell open. “They are not.”
Darrien pointed towards the couple. “It’s been a while, but that’s what it looks like.”
“God.” Samantha sank onto the bench. “I don’t think I can stay if it’s going to be that kind of party.”
Evie opened her mouth to no doubt say something bitchy when Ethan stopped her. “Not one insult or I will order you silent for the rest of the evening. Last thing we need is to show any weakness.”
“Fine,” Evie crossed her arms, “I’ll keep my opinions to myself.”
“Thank you.”
Darrien took a seat beside Samantha and patted the empty space on the opposite side. “Have a seat next to me. I’ll help keep you in check.”
Evie’s anger faded as she slid next to Darrien, closer than necessary.
Ethan took the open seat near Samantha and not a moment later, each of them had a drink in hand.
“That’s a fun trick.” Darrien lifted the glass to his lips while the others stared at theirs with wary eyes. “What’s the problem? We’re immortal. There isn’t anything in this drink that could kill us.”
Samantha cocked her head, eyes wide. “What if it’s laced with shavings from a Dire Fir?”
“Uh,” Darrien lowered his glass, “I didn’t think of that.”
“It’s perfectly safe,” Guinevere said from behind them. “I promise.”
“No disrespect,” Darrien said, “but we don’t know you.”
“May I?” She pointed to the small space between Darrien and Samantha and they parted, allowing her to sit. She took Darrien’s glass and drank. “See? It’s safe.”
“For a witch,” he mumbled under his breath.
Guinevere chuckled. “I see I have my work cut out for me. What can I do to earn your trust?”
“Answer our questions,” Samantha replied, “like you promised this morning.”
“Certainly,” she answered. “But first, we must start at the beginning.” With a flick of her wrist, the fire burst with new life.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Darrien had never seen anything like it. The tip of fire danced as images came into view. It took him a second until he could make out a ship; the old kind with huge white sails and a deck below. “What is this?”
“The beginning.” The sound of Guinevere’s voice silenced the crowd. “Our coven crossed the ocean a thousand years ago in desperate need of a richer power source. We are only as powerful as the God of Light allows. And that power is filtered through the earth. The more sun, the more the earth produces, the more power we can siphon.”
As she spoke the images played her words like a movie.
Samantha moved closer, her eyes fixated on the images in the fire. “Is that my father?”
“It is. He and six others were the leaders of our coven. You know them as the chairs of what was the Immortal Council. Their true title is Primordials. They were the first.”
“First vampires, you mean.” Darrien knew the name Primordials, but he had never heard the story of their origin.
“Before they became the first vampires—the first immortal beings—they were the first witches. Born near a thousand years ago.”
Samantha covered her mouth with her hands. “A thousand years?”
“Yes.”
“But you said,” Ethan interjected, “that witches had long lives but didn’t live forever.”
“Correct.” Guinevere stood and looked out to the crowd who watched as if they’d never heard this story before, the fire’s images changing as she spoke. “They brought our coven here out of greed. They desired more power and eternal life.”
“Why here?” Samantha asked.
“Here,” she swept her hands wide, “we sit on the equator. That, along with the dense forest, led them to believe they would find a greater source of power.”
Evie straightened, eyes wide with fascination. “Did they?”
“Yes and no.”
Darrien wanted to slam his fist into the bench and tell her to get on with it, but he sat back and held his tongue.
“What does that mean?” At least Samantha sounded as impatient as he felt.
Guinevere didn’t seem bothered by Samantha’s irritation, but also didn’t get to the point. “Though their power grew, the God of Light denied their request for immortally. So, they turned to the God of Darkness. I believe the locals now call it Macumba. It has gone by many names over the years and is feared by all, but in truth, the God of Light could not exist without the God of Darkness. Each hold extraordinary power over the world and create a balance between good and evil. And each demands a price.”
A sudden chill rushed down Darrien’s arm. “A price for what?”
“To tap into their magic,” Guinevere said simply. “The God of Light requires Her followers to make the world a better place. Use her powers for good and you keep them.”
Samantha sucked in a sharp breath. “And the God of Darkness?”
; An unnerving smile tugged at Guinevere’s lips. “A sacrifice.”
“What sort of sacrifice?” Evie asked.
The image in the fire changed again. Seven witches, the six chairs of the Immortal Council, and a woman Darrien didn’t recognize stood in a circle in the clearing in the woods, chanting in a language he didn’t recognize.
“When the God of Light refused to grant them immortality, they turned to the God of Darkness. He gladly accepted, but he wanted one thing in return.”
“A sacrifice,” Darrien said to himself more than anything.
Guinevere nodded. “And an unusual sacrifice at that. To prove they had refuted the God of Light, he ordered them to turn a knife on themselves.”
Samantha cried out as they all sat in horror and watched the seven witches—her father included—thrust a knife in each of their own chests. They fell to the ground, taking their last breaths in unison. It was the scariest damn thing Darrien had ever seen in his life.
“The coven found them that way the next morning,” Guinevere continued. “They believed them to be dead. They dressed their bodies in black and laid them out on an altar for all to see with a single red rose placed on their chests.”
Samantha whispered, “The Immortal Sacrament.”
“Screw it.” Darrien lifted his glass and threw back the stout wine.
Guinevere waved, and a second glass appeared in his hand. “It’s a lot to take in at once.”
“What happened next?” Evie asked.
“They remained that way until the following night and then awoke immortal.” She spoke as if that were the end of the story.
Darrien knew better. “When did they realize the true cost of immortality?”
Guinevere’s eyes narrowed. “You are a clever one, aren’t you?”
“Please,” Darrien swept a hand outward, “continue.”
“That evening, the trees surrounding the sacrificial site—those now known as the Dire Fir—lost their color. A few days later, the thirst for human blood set in. Then heightened emotions. And finally, the inability to tolerate sunlight except beneath the Dire Fir. Hence, the first vampires were born.”
“Why would the God of Darkness punish them in such a way?” Evie asked. “How did that benefit him?”
“The God of Darkness did not place this curse upon them, the God of Light did. As punishment for denouncing her.”
Samantha brushed away the fallen strands of hair from her face. “I get why, as the God of Light, she wouldn’t allow them in the sun, but why make them drink human blood? Wouldn’t that be putting the innocent at risk?”
Guinevere’s features were smooth, emotionless. “You think because she is the God of Light that she is pure? There is good and evil in all of us—the Gods included. She left the Primordials their humanity and heightened their emotions. They took many lives before they learned to control the hunger, and they felt each of their victims' deaths as if it were their own. Many were those they loved and from this coven. The witches lived in fear for years, locked in huts during the night with nothing to protect them but a spell and branches from the Dire Fir.”
Darrien’s heart skipped. He also knew the regret that came with taking a life to save your own. Equally, he understood the fear the witches must have endured and the hatred that grew from that fear.
Samantha spoke first. “What about—”
“No more questions this evening,” Guinevere interjected. “I promised to help you, but not now. This is a celebration, and the future of your race is a serious matter.”
The party picked up where it left off as she turned and walked away.
They sat in silence for a while, each sipping their wine. No one spoke. They didn’t even look at each other. Darrien’s eyes stayed focused on the fire as his mind replayed the story repeatedly. He wanted to talk about it, but he didn’t think this was the best place with so many witches around.
Samantha broke the silence. “So much for answering all our questions. I think I have more now than when she started if that's possible. Plus, she didn’t even mention the wo—”
Ethan placed a finger to her lips. “Shh. I don’t think this conversation is private.”
Darrien followed Ethan’s line of sight. Everyone he saw were lost in their own little world. All but one: a petite woman hid in the shadows alone, seeming to only have eyes for them.
“We’re new here,” Evie waved a dismissive hand, “and I doubt they have many visitors. I’m sure people here are curious.”
Darrien kept his eyes trained on the woman. She had caught him staring, but didn’t seem to care. “Curious people turn their heads when caught gawking.”
Samantha crossed her legs then uncrossed them just as quickly. “She’s coming towards us. Should we leave?”
From the corner of his eye, Darrien saw Ethan wrap a hand around Samantha’s clenched fist and squeeze. “I doubt she’ll hurt us with so many witnesses. She might just want to talk.”
As she approached, Darrien stood ready to greet the small woman and offer her his seat. But she didn’t stop at their bench, instead passing them by with an imperceptible flick of her hand.
“Did you see what she dropped?” Darrien asked.
Samantha scrunched her nose. “I think she was waving.”
“No.” Darrien rounded the bench, scouring the ground. “She dropped a piece of paper. Help me look, but don’t be obvious.”
“I found it.” Evie clutched her fingers around the paper. “Should we chance reading it here?”
“Huddle close.” Ethan stood between them and the fire while Samantha reluctantly scooted closer to Evie.
Darrien closed the gap from behind the bench. “Go ahead, Evie.”
She unfolded the paper and read it out loud. “‘Meet in thirty’. What does that mean?”
“Guess she wants to talk.” Darrien reached for the note to get a closer look at the symbol below the text. “What does that mean?”
“That,” Ethan pointed, “is the hut number.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Samantha stayed close to Ethan’s side as they navigated the dark alleys. “Are you sure it’s this way?”
“No,” Ethan said, pointing to the their left, “but that symbol there is very similar to the one on this paper. See the dots surrounding the inner circle? That hut has three, the one before had two, so my guess is the next would be four dots, just like the paper.”
His logic was sound, but Samantha still didn’t understand why they were following a random note given to them by a woman who was staring at them from the shadows. Why didn’t she just ask to speak with them?
“It’ll be fine.” Ethan took her hand for the second time tonight. She didn’t know what to make of the intimate gesture, but knew it felt nice to be close to him again. And safe. So very, very safe. “It’s four against one. Did you see how small she was? We can take her.”
Darrien blew out his cheeks. “We just watched a thousand-year-old video through a fire projector. I think assuming we can take her down because of her small stature is…stupid. Sorry, couldn’t think of a better word.”
“You’re the one who insisted we come here,” Ethan said.
“Hey,” Darrien pointed a finger at him, “secret meetings mean the inviter has something juicy to share with the invitee.”
Samantha raised an eyebrow. “Is inviter ever a word?”
“Yes,” Darrien snapped, “maybe. Does it matter?”
“Hey.” Evie stopped in front of a hut, bringing the rest of them to a halt. “I think this is the place.”
“So,” Darrien said as they stood side by side, “should we knock?”
As the words left his lips, the door opened.
Samantha’s stomach rolled. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
Evie threw back her head. “Don’t be such a pus—”
Darrien threw his hand over her mouth. “That is such an ugly word for such a pretty lady. Promise never to say it again?”
> Evie nodded.
“Good. I’ll drop my hand and you’d better be nice.”
“Baby,” Evie spat.
Darrien smacked his forehead with a hard thump. “Jesus.”
“Inside,” Ethan tugged on Samantha’s hand, “everyone. No point in standing out here.”
Samantha followed Ethan through the door and her mouth dropped. “It’s empty.”
The door behind them slammed and Samantha jumped. A bright light flashed, blinding her for a second. When the spots cleared, they were no longer in an empty room, but one filled with white lit candles which gave off a serene glow. In the center, kneeling on a white rug, sat the woman who’d left them the note. Her black hair flowed down her back, pooling on the carpet and accenting her flawless ebony skin.
“The piece of paper?” she asked.
“Right here.” Evie held it up between her index and middle fingers.
“Release it.” When Evie didn’t comply, her face softened. “I need to destroy the note and don’t want to hurt you.”
“Go ahead, Evie,” Darrien pressed, “drop it.”
She did so, and not a second after it left her fingers the note burst into flames and disappeared. Not even ash hit the floor.
“Thank you, Evie. I wouldn’t want anyone to find out I spoke to you all.” The woman patted the rug beside her. “Please, join me.”
Samantha turned to Ethan then Darrien for a sign of what they should do next.
“I have no intention of harming you,” the woman added. “I believe Luther sent you here to speak with me.”
“What’s your name?” Samantha asked quickly before anyone gave it away.
“Silvaria—”
“Wrong,” Samantha cut her off; this was too easy.
Silvaria chuckled. “Won’t you let me finish? Silvaria O’Mordha. They sent here you to speak with the descendant of Euphenia O’Mordha, correct? She’s my great-grandmother—three times over, I believe. After a few greats, the family tree gets a bit messy.”
Samantha kneeled on the carpet beside her. “How did you know?”
“The origin story that Guinevere told you. Do you remember how many Primordials there were?”
